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Exemplary wibbly wobbly timey wimey simming from @Sal Taybrim! "So what is it?!" 😜 (( Trauma Center Eight, Main Medical Facility, Starbase 118 )) Foster: Come on you bastard, live… The words were gritted through clenched teeth as Wyn Foster tried to use every ounce of his stubbornness and will to ensure his patient would live. And then everything went completely and utterly sideways. Zumagi: Get OUT of MY surgery! He could hear the leonine roar in Zumagi’s tone as the massive Bajoran surged forward and made his body the block in the doorway that separated the assassin from the surgical suite. Wyn pinned his antennae down to the top of his head, drew in another short breath and pushed the energy in the regeneration tool just a little higher. Please just seal this tear. Please let this artery stabilize. Nniol: Get out of my way! Disruptor fire lanced out and he was aware that Ivin pushed forward. Wyn imagined that he had grabbed the assassin’s hand trying to direct the fire away from innocents. Or patients. Or him. He would be a blue stinky liar if he said he wasn’t terrified right now. But terror would have to sit down and shut up for a moment, he had a patient to save. Zumagi: Make me. That’s right, taunt the super dangerous guy. Wyn pushed the oxygen a little higher. He had to get the blood oxygen levels up to a point where he could let the life support take over. So he could stop Praetor’s heart and fix the extensive valve damage. Nniol: damn you… And that’s when something happened. Wyn was focused totally on the very careful process of getting Praetor’s heart to stop without jeopardizing his brain health. But the intonation of the assassin gave him the slightest clue that something was about to go down. Orange disruptor fire lanced out again. This time with Zumagi dodging for his life several shots slipped past his guard and slammed into the back wall of the surgical suite. Wyn’s antennae were ringing and his vision when white for a second. Blinking constantly, as it clearer he could hear the shrill wail of alarms. That last shot cut life support. Prateor, heart stopped, started to plummet into oblivion. Foster: no, no no no no… He started to work, frantically fast, trying every single thing he could think of to preserve this life. Zumagi: Get out of my sight, kasvak. He could hear the meaty thump of a foot onto flesh. The scream. The hatred. The anger. And the Praetor flatlined. Wyn gave a strangled cry. He could try to cryofreeze the body, but that was a last ditch effort. And now there was brain damage. His old nemesis. No one was the same after brain damage. And still he kept trying. Anything, everything to save his patient. And just as he was about to curse in despair, giving up all hope, something happened. There was a static pop. And the entire world turned sideways. Foster: Come on you bastard, live… The words were gritted through clenched teeth as Wyn Foster tried to use every ounce of his stubbornness and will to ensure his patient would live. Wait a second. What in the seven layers of Gret’hor was going on? How was he here again? He looked down. Prateor was alive! And the tear wasn’t fixed yet… Oh crap, fix that tear. Zumagi: Get OUT of MY surgery! He could hear the leonine roar in Zumagi’s tone as the massive Bajoran surged forward and made his body the block in the doorway that separated the assassin from the surgical suite. Oh, gods, he didn’t have much time. Work faster, Wyn! Think faster, Wyn! No, stop. Don’t think about how strange this is or why it[‘s happening. Act. Foster: Somebody cover the door! Before he shoots! Nniol: Get out of my way! The trauma team who wasn’t directly assisting surgery hustled. Someone pulled a laser scalper and pulled the door override panel off. Wyn was glad someone had more technical skills than he had. If a life or death situation came down to Wyn Foster having the engineering knowledge to block a door… they would all die. He slept through Engineering 101. Because he had spent all his nights doubling up on surgical intern work. Which was, incidentally why Praetor wasn’t dead yet. Come on, artery. Close. He would be a blue stinky liar if he said he wasn’t terrified right now. On this second go around the stress had mingled with the terror to make his entire body feel ice cold. Like he had been woken up by getting dumped into a pool of ice water. There was that pins and needles clod shock feeling on his skin. Please let this time be different. Zumagi: Make me. Come on Ivin, don’t die. As the arterial tear closed and the artery held stable, Wyn worked on increasing the oxygen levels in the blood. He wished he could also increase the oxygen levels in his blood. His breath was coming in with short little pants. Nniol: damn you… Oh, gods, here it comes… Orange disruptor fire lanced out again. This time with Zumagi dodging for his life several shots slipped past his guard. And slammed into the closed door. Sparks erupted from the access panel and one of the orderlies shrieked as the surge burned his hands. That was a yelp of pain, but not one of death. Burns could be easily fixed. Praetor was… Alive. Zumagi: Get out of my sight, kasvak. If he was paying attention he could be learning all the fun curse words right now. He was not paying attention. He was monitoring the blood oxygen levels. And… stopping the heart. Life support held strong. Wyn was barely breathing as he started working on the tear in the left atrium. Slowly building up new layers of tissue with biomaterial to patch over and fuse into the existing tissue. The body would heal and recycle the biomatter. And it was… working. The door opened. It was quiet. Well, kinda quiet. A little quiet. There were injured doctors, nurses and orderlies. Ivin was breathing. Big heaving breaths as if he was confused as to what the heck just went on. Wyn tested his voice. It was thin and thready and it sounded like it was ready to crack. Foster: Is that guy gone? Praetor’s not dead, should have been dead, what the hell happened… time is messed up… somebody come help! Zumagi: Wait, he’s fine and alive? That’s a good thing, that’s very good. He was not dead. That was a very good thing. The last thing Wyn needed was an entire Romulan empire wanting to kill him for not saving their Praetor. Foster: Fine? Uh, no. But alive? Yes. Now. I swear he died, then time reversed and this time we didn’t have a disruptor bolt but life support so his blood oxygen is … well… it’s not great but I’ll take it. Oh and I also stopped his heart and I’m working on the atrial damage. You know, add those tiny details at the end. Zumagi: What the hell. You know what, I’m not complaining, I’ll take it. Are you injured? We’ve got a lot more injured now. Dammit! Injured? No. Absolutely emotionally wrung out and exhausted? Yes. He had about two more hours in him before he would completely collapse. There was the boon and the bane of his accelerated Andorian metabolism all in one. Foster: I didn’t take any damage. Some others were caught in the crossfire. Zumagi: Let’s get the Praetor sorted and stable, then we can help the others. Praetor needs to be a priority patient till he’s stable. He tipped his antennae downwards in assent. Foster: You’re right. Release whoever is available on the trauma teams to treat the injured. At the very least they were already in a trauma bay. That was good, right? Zumagi: ? Foster: We’re back where we were before, except the Aorta tear is mended and of I can fix the atrial and myocardial damage then we’ve got a working circulatory system and we can put all efforts into removing any remaining shrapnel and fixing that damage. Zumagi: ? He drew in a sharp breath and considered that. They would, sooner or later, be exhausted – both of them. They needed to get Praetor to a point where the severe damage was treated and the patient was stabilized, allowing another set of surgeons to seek and fix any minor damage. Foster: We need to make sure the lungs are functioning to full capacity so that we keep proper blood oxygenation levels – and remove any of the shrapnel you located as a critical or level 1 damage issue. After that we can check vitals and see if we can pull in backup. Zumagi: ? Foster: You just fought off a rabid assassin. That’s no slouch move. At this point he was working a fairly routine set of movements to mend the deep tear in the heart tissue. With the heart stilled it was almost a soothing job. If life support and vitals stayed steady. Zumagi: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster Chief Surgeon StarBase 118 Ops "Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must" ~Julian Beck E239010ST0

Constantly in awe of Jo's ability to set a scene, and how the words just flow so right. I realise it's not a sim with tags, but it is a key mood setting sim, and a fab read. @Jo Marshall Jaress Kel - Shooting the Messenger

Reading @Quentin Collins III's latest brought a big smile to my face. I love seeing a Star Trek character who's as big a Star Trek fan as the rest of us. I never had model spaceships or airplanes hanging from my bedroom ceiling, but I always wished I had. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did.

This sim from @Esa_Darkkdust is a great picture of some of the challenges facing one of the classes of people on the world Lanaxa that the crew has gone to assist. It is very well written and I felt it deserved a mention here. Great job, Esa! (Trigger Warning: Some parts of this might be triggering for some people as it deals with indentured servitude and forced poverty and the issues that arise from that. We hope this won't trigger anyone, but please read with caution.) ============ ((Indentured Servitude Slums, Meranta City, Lanaxa)) A morning mist had fallen on the slopes of the mountain that played home to Meranta City. Few of the residents scurried their way around the streets, making their way into the castle or out into the fields for work. For Jurog, her morning consisted of splitting what little food she had left between those under her care, portioning out more for those that had caught the illness and those that were younger than she. She had only turned seventeen a few weeks ago, finally able to get her own food packages from the stores, but the her parents had gotten sick with the illness, and it wasn't long before they were both gone, chun an taobh thall… To the beyond. Today, however, word from one of the Seirbhiseach who worked in the Talla a 'Bhaile had reached her that the people from the stars were arriving. Eager to be on time, she hurried through her routine, tending to the small ones, who would only go out and cause trouble on the streets the moment she left. Once outside and on her way from the lean-to she called home to the Capitol, Jurog saw a shimmering blue light in the distance and moved closer to investigate. When she saw people where the light once was, she ducked behind one of the buildings. They had just appeared out of thin air! Trembling, she crept closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. She almost jumped out of her skin when one of them spoke to her - it was a voice she recognised. The one that had spoken to her on the video screen! But then, she couldn't be sure. The screen was old and had been repaired by whatever means they'd managed to pull together. Sometimes the voices wouldn't be so good. Levinson: Jurog Ka'ala, I presume? Jurog peered at the figures, squinting almost, her poor eyesight letting her down in this most crucial of moments. Her parents had never been able to afford the corrective procedure, or the fancy eyepieces that the Uasail wore. It wasn’t until she crept a bit closer that their faces began to come into focus. There were two blue ones, both with pointy ears, and four yellow ones. One with spots, two small purple ones, and one with something that looked like a big water wing on his wrist. Inside she giggled. Perhaps he didn't know how to swim? Ka'ala: ::Meekly:: Yes, are you the people from up there? The ones that call on the video screen? Levinson: Indeed. It is good to speak to you face to face, and your agreeing to help is appreciated. T'Prana : Greetings. 101: Hello! 000: Hello… Kiax / McKnight: Responses Jurog shrank away slightly, intimidated by the smartly dressed space travellers. The masks they wore were frightening, like the ones the guards wore when the air grew acrid. They seemed friendly, but their exuberant salutations were not something that she had ever experienced before. She couldn’t help but notice that none of them looked the same, except for the two small ones… Though one of them looked to be more assertive than the other. Ka'ala: Hello… Levinson: Ms. Ka'ala has agreed to assist us with our search for the source of the virus. I believe having a local guide to the area will be beneficial. Jurong nodded, earnestly, strands of her matted hair falling across her face. Ka'ala: A great many of us are sick, and many more are dying… We are desperate. People say you are the ones who stopped the ground shaking. If I can help you, maybe you can help us. 101 & 000: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses Levinson: Could you show us around, perhaps? Knowing where and how the food and water are kept and distributed, as well as knowing the areas where people usually socialise around might help us rule out likely sources and ways of transferring the virus. Ka'ala: I can show you the taigh-stòir bìdh ((food storehouse))… But the guards might turn me away. I have already had my weekly food package… The river is nearby, which is where we get our water. After that I can take you to the square, and the market. Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses Jurog smiled weakly, and started leading the group down the hill toward the fields where the Agri-hangars were. They were several, large, dome-roofed buildings that separated the slums from the fields. Each one had two guards with pike-shaped weapons stationed by the entrance - their purpose simply to dissuade any of the Seirbhiseach from breaking in and stealing the produce. The food that they were given was strictly regulated by the Uasail, and only provided to them once a week in a boxed package. As they approached, Jurog slowed slightly, moving closer to the one with the pointed ears. She couldn’t remember her name from the conversation on the video screen, and was too afraid to ask again. Ka’ala: The guards are there to stop us from taking the food. Can you talk to them? They are often unkind to us and I… don’t wish to receive a’ bualadh ((a beating)). Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses As the group edged closer, the guard closest to them turned aggressively toward them. The physical bulk of the man was capable of snapping Jurog’s comparatively brittle frame into many pieces if she strayed any closer. She moved closer to the pointy eared one, and the one with the spots. They seemed to be the ones in charge - hopefully they would be the ones to protect her if the guards got angry. Guard 1: Halt. No Seirbhiseach are permitted to enter the taigh-stòir bìdh outside of the harvesting hours. Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses Guard 2: And how do we know that you’ll keep your word? That little thief was in here last week, pilfering extra grain for her little band of lowlifes. Jurong shook her head, defiantly. Ka'ala: No. You lie! I was never here! Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses --- MSNPC Jurog Ka'ala Citizen of Lanaxa Simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Esa Kiax Chief of Operations USS Astraeus A239511ED0

I love that @Trovek and Sydin took a chance on this sim and I think it really paid off and hit a home run! To explain - there is a normal scene going on during on there (with standard tags and narration) where two undercover characters are eavesdropping on the conversations in this sim. So the two active characters are simming the reactions, but this is a marvelous set up for the information coming in. It's a great bit of foreshadowing for our next mission while we're in the thick of our current mission and I love that kind of story building!

These two reluctantly becoming friends-ish has been one of my favorite things to read and write! Really enjoyed this one by @Addison MacKenzie ========================================= (( Room 02-1601 - USS Excalibur-A )) Addison had gone to the replicator and returned with two cups of tea. She extended one to Talos before retaking her seat on the opposite end of the couch. There was something about bonding over shared trauma that few counselors or therapists could penetrate as easily as someone who lived it. MacKenzie: So which moment do you keep reliving? Dakora: There are a couple that keep sticking with me... ::He sighed.:: When they had me strung up on the crane... Vo'kor's guy? Durok? Well, he placed that dagger of his point first right into my sternum. He'd decided that I didn't have the intel he wanted and I felt his muscles tense and start pushing that blade into me. ::Talos shook his head and blinked.:: I knew it was all over. I was dead. I was so certain that I was going to feel the point driving through my skin, up into my chest- but at the last second Vo'kor shows up and tells him to hold off because we might still be useful. ::He directed his gaze towards MacKenzie:: It was close. And when I close my eyes my brain keeps filling in the gory details of what would've happened if he hadn't stopped. Addison was willing to let him talk, but he must have realized he was starting to relive all their favorite moments. Dakora: Uh, how about you? MacKenzie: I go back and forth between the sound of blood pumping through my head while I was being held up by my neck and the look on Vo’Kor’s face when we wiped out the rest of his bridge crew. She offered a slight smile at the sadistic implication. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin. Dakora: Oh, that was great. ::His eyes lit up a little.:: Or when the Commodore said the Excal was coming back online and Vo'kor was all: ::He assumed an inaccurate but comical impression of the Klingon's deep voice::"What, that's impossible! My little nano-bots! Boo-hoo! ::He switched back to his normal voice.:: and I was all like: "Shut up, Captain Asshat!". MacKenzie: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… And you actually got in my pants – who’d’ve thought?! Dakora: Hey, I pulled those pants off and you know it! I might have to get the replicator pattern from you... with some anti-wedgie modifications. MacKenzie: Perhaps just a size or two bigger, next time… Talos rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand sleepily. Dakora: You know, now that we're out and we didn't die, I do have a confession to make... Her smile dropped and her head cocked. MacKenzie: Well, we nearly died together… He took a deep breath. Dakora: Back on the Daisy; It was a voice print authorization. ::His grin turned positively cheshire.:: You didn't HAVE to say an authorization code at all. I just... you know... thought a little humor would help at the time. He broke out into a small fit of laughter at the revelation. Her lips pursed. MacKenzie: Uh huh. Well, little did we both know how much we’d need a little pick me up over there… Dakora: It is a good password though. Something no one would guess. ::He sipped up the last of his tea.:: I'm gonna use it somewhere in the Intel Department. He set his cup down on the little coffee table and yawned. A silence settled over them, only to be momentarily broken by the intelligence chief. Dakora: I don't know how, but I actually feel better. ::He shrugged.:: Thanks for the talk. And the tea. MacKenzie: I’m glad I could help. He rose and crossed to the door, but stopped right in front of it and glanced back at her. Dakora: And... if you have any trips planned for this shore leave that don't involve going to Risa, I'm respectfully declining now. He offered a mischievous grin, her “clearly fed up with it” voice chasing him out the door. MacKenzie: Good night, Talos! She couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle and shake her head. No, there would be no shore leave in their future. It would soon be on to the next great adventure. But first, bed. End Scene --- Commander Addison MacKenzie, M.D., Ph.D., FASFS First Officer USS Excalibur-A Captains Council Magistrate V239601AM0

I am enjoying watching the character growth and development of Sill-con in this mission! Great work, Ensign, keep it up!

I really love the way Seta Jinean has taken on the recent flood of counseling sessions she's been fielding. Several of us have sought her out, and in a couple cases officers have been "summoned" to the counseling suite for post-incident check-ins. While Seta can be a bit prickly at times (a creative choice I thoroughly enjoy), her care for her patients is evident in the gentle, guiding methodology that would certainly put me (OOC) at ease and provide a non-confrontational, safe environment. The sim linked below is the end of a session with Commander @Addison MacKenzie and encapsulates nicely the sense of healing patients tend to feel by the time they leave the office. https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-excalibur/c/6oH6HOqxYIc/m/9zeBZrQgFwAJ Well done, friends. It's an honor to serve (IC) and write (OOC) with you both.

And the Adventure continues.... ========== (( Ruins of the Replicator of Gen’tronic )) Wyla couldn’t help but look up at the large and imposing, yet impressive structure around them. It was stone, but felt ancient and looked as though it had survived for millennia with, as far as she could tell, not as much deterioration as she would have expected from a structure as old as Nibble has made it out to be. The immense chamber was lined with dozens of alcoves along the left and right walls, the stonework had fine details carved into them and looked eerily beautiful. At the back of the chamber however sat an immense machine? It looked like a machine of metal and stone and crystal. That rose up over ten meters high and took up a twenty meter section of the floor. Sleek, if partially crumbled steps lead up to it. And there in the middle of the device, was a spine shaped piece of what Wyla could only say, looked like armor. Avae: Is…is that? ::She asked weakly from Twibbles back:: The troupe of twibbles approached it, though Ribble, Swibble, and Kwibble’s eyes were on those alcoves while they walked. Nibble: I believe it is! This arcane device is ancient, but should still be functional since that barrier is still working. Pwibble: What barrier? He asked puzzled but Nibble smiled. Nibble: There’s a magical barrier protecting it. I can see it. Give me a moment and you should too. The twibble’s eyes glowed a moment as did her talisman and a few seconds later a glowing barrier shimmered into view. Wyla felt a tingle in her eyes. Nibble must have given them all the same sight she had. Kwibble: How do we get the artifact? They stepped up to the platform to inspect it for a moment, with Nibble in the lead. She studied the barrier for several long moments while the rest of the group waited. Her guardians took up positions around her and warily looked about the dark, ominous chamber. Only Wyla’s diminished light from her medallion offered any illumination beyond the barrier that shielded the artifact from them. Nibble: I think..if we touch these runes here in the right ord…oops. The twibble touched one of them and the room began to rumble. Twibble: Oops? Niibble…what did you do? The adorable twibble spun around and shook her head. Nibble: I didn’t touch any of the runes, I promise, there’s just this weird web… She wiggled and minute, almost imperceptible strands of filament waved like cobwebs. That’s when the chittering started. Click, click clack. Tink, tink, tink tink tink tink. Like the sound of dozens of metal boots on stone echoed through the chamber and everyone seemed to realize the sound was coming from above them and all around them. Wyla slowly turned her head to the side and strained to glance back up at the ceiling while flattened to Twibble’s back. Eyes. Dozens of sharp, red eyes moved like a swarm down the walls. When the first came into view her heart and stomach both sank simultaneously. The eyes were multifaceted and sat atop the sleek, deadly body of an eight legged frame. Ribble & Swibble: Spiders. Why’d it have to be spiders! A loud roar rumbled from Twibble, who sensed the fear in his subordinates. While Twibble hadn’t faced these foes before, he knew that several of those with him had. Twibble: Steaady yourselves. Protect Wylaa! The rally roar of the large lion bolstered the others who gripped their various weapons at the ready. Nibble wasted no time and hurled lightning, orbs of fire and rays of ice at the inbound arachnids. Sadly, the rest had to wait until the arachnids drew closer, which didn’t seem to take long as several just leapt from the walls and landed all around them with metallic clangs. Despite the height, none of the spiders seemed phased and Wyla squeaked in fright as several landed on top of Twibble. She batted at those she could reach while the others scrambled to defends themselves. Twibble raked his claws on those he could reach and flung them several meters away, for them to land with a clatter, only to flip themselves back right side up and chitter towards them again. Ribble: Ee gads, there beeth so many of them! Ribble exclaimed whilst he swung those climbing axes about violently, each swing cleaved through several of the metallic spiders that continued to fall from above them. Kwibble: I hate these spiders! Kwibble and Swibble swapped back and forth between groups of arachnids, their blades cut through them easily enough but made loud clangs. Two dervishes of twibble fury. Ribble caught one spider in mid air as it attempted to fall on him and he tore it in half. Pwibble used his anchor like a bat from a sport that sent many spiders into the air back whence they came with loud thuds and clangs. Libble patched some stings and scratches in Twibble’s hide, and swung her medkit backhanded to knock a spider off of the lion’s rear. Everyone fought so hard, Wyla felt somewhat useless. And there were so many, she wished that they had something to help keep the spiders at bay. Or had more help to get the artifact from the machine while they held them off. The light from her medallion flared and made everyone startle a moment when a sliver of light formed vertically in the air just at the base of the steps. It looked like a tear in the air, but shimmered with a blue light, a familiar blue light. Nibble: Someone’s teleporting in. She warned. Twibble: Greaat, what now? The blue sliver disappeared with a pop and Wyla stared at a quartet of new figures. More Twibbles!!! ‘Ave no fear! The Artificers are ‘ere!’ Four twibbles emerged from the column of blue light before it faded. All in gold uniforms. All with toolkits on their sides, though the one that spoke had a beaten old thermos that hung opposite his toolkit. And he wielded a large cutting tool that sparked at the tip. The one next to him had a big smile and wielded a different tool as a weapon. Wibble: See! I told you I sensed they were in twibble! Then there were the two smaller twibbles standing beside one another. They had artificer devices on their heads and worn around their belts. Each was worn on the opposite side of the other one so while they stood beside each other, they looked symmetrical. Twipple: Oh that’s a lot Mibble: of spiders but Twipple: d..don’t worry we’re Mibble: here to help! The older, scruffier looking twibble with the thermos stepped up and grinned. Dwibble: ‘lright lads. Take those spiders apart! While Wibble ‘an I get that shield down! The quarter rushed into the fray, up the platform to help the others, who cheered with excitement and Wyla couldn’t help but grin a little at the cute new arrivals. The larger of the two immediately moved to study the runes on the machine. Several tense minutes passed, or so she felt, with their group fighting back the spiders. Which seemed fewer in number that descended from above. Maybe there was a limit to how many guardians this place had. She hoped. A loud whirr sounded and they looked back to see the barrier in front of the Spine fade. Which resulted in a chorus of cheers from the twibbles. Dwibble: Told ‘ya. Nothin’ that good ole ingenuity can’t fix! The machine whirred to life, the stone and metal all around them began to glow as light flowed out from the machine into the stone like LEDs in the stonework. It was beautiful. Then she felt it. A tug on her body and a moment later she looked behind her to see a long metallic limb that touched her back. The Spine of Paralysis Removal was held in a limb-like aperture that, once the shield was lowered, moved the spine out of the casing. She felt the metal against her back as the machine clamped the artifact to her back. Wyla gasped and heard the clicking sound of the metal from the spine shaped device as it spread around her. Like links, folding over one after the other to form a suit of armor around her entire body save for her face. It lifted her off Twibbles back and held her aloft in front of the machine. Nibble: The machine has chosen Wyla!!! Nibble exclaimed excitedly and for a moment, everyone seemed to be able to relax. Maybe her hopes had been warranted. She smiled at the twibbles below her, then convulsed. A sharp pain in her back made her cry out. Libble: Oh no, something’s wrong!! I think her body is fighting the artifact. An echo not heard since the first chamber they’d ventured into after the twibbles found her suddenly sounded around them. Showing signs of rejection and vitals are showing a slight drop but are still within normal parameters. She felt her body grow colder and the light from her medallion dimmed significantly. Libble: Hang on Wyla. The alcoves all around them began to glow as her light dimmed and the rumbling of the machine grew louder. Each alcove brightened and a moment later a metallic skeleton, or another metallic spider emerged from every other alcove. A sense of dread fell over the group as they realized where the guardians had come from. Every twibble formed a ring around Wyla while she was held in the air just above them by the machine. Either she would blend with the artifact, or reject it. She only needed time. To be continued….? ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

((USS ‘Oumuamua - deck 8 - cargo bay 2)) Rows of round containers stacked upon one another. Several one meter flat boxes piled at least 4 meters high. The young lady, ivory skin a pleasant contrast with black hair piled into a loose bun was clad in the gold of her position. She pulled her tunic down over her rounded hips and grimaced. Losing weight was high on her to-do list but that hadn’t worked out well. She really liked those banana splits the mess hall made for her… every day. Low to no calorie, but she still kept the weight on. Jean stood in the doorway keeping the opening from closing. She silently and slowly slid her phaser from its holster. A simple glance down to check the setting was all she needed. Set at stun, she keyed the control to heavy stun. One never knew what would pop out from between those containers. Her only clue as to why she was here was the vague order to “search number 2, apprehend whoever was there and transport them (or it) to the brig”. According to the tricorder, what she was looking for was four containers away. Slipping along the orderly rows of essential goods, the ensign watched the little red blip. It wasn’t moving. Was that a good thing? Hearing the sliding doors moving when they shouldn’t be, Ensign Bratton’s hearing perked up. She spun around, phaser at the ready. Doors closed, no one visible. A whisper of cloth against cloth was her only warning. A hand came down on her wrist; the phaser clanked against the floor and skittered across the grey decking. Jean’s knee came up quickly, slamming into her opponent’s thigh. Not where she was hoping, but that was where she landed. It was enough to cause the intruder to grunt and lean to the left. The edge of Jean’s hand came up swift and hard against the exposed neck. Her opponent collapsed. Not bothering to ask questions - that would happen once they were in the brig and had more time. Ensign Bratton slapped her comm badge. Bratton: =/\= Two to beam directly to the brig =/\= Brig Officer: =/\= Energising. =/\= ((Deck 7 - Brig)) Jean stared at her adversary. Human, dishwater blond, and cute in a pixie way. Obviously a woman, she wasn’t wearing a uniform but that could be because she was off-duty. Or she shouldn’t be on the ‘Oumuamua in the first place. Bratton: Who are you? The brig attendant had beamed her into the cell behind the force field that would hold her until Jean’s superior arrived. The intruder stood still with no expression. To Bratton’s inexperienced eyes, it looked like she was waiting. She didn’t seem alarmed at her predicament. Nor did she appear nervous. And just as Jean was going to ask another question (that probably would never be answered anyway) the woman was gone. No shimmering beam, no warning. Placing a finger to her lips, the ensign wondered if she should contact the chief - Kessler? Or maybe the XO. This would be his purview. While pondering, the brig officer was making his own report. Brig officer Alton: ::to jean as his fingers sailed over his console:: She stole an engineering toolbox. ::pause:: That could explain why we’re missing one. Jean relaxed, leaning against the brig controls. Shore leave was almost over and they'd be starting a new mission. That was when she could return to her normal activities: relaxing. —————————— Ensign Jean Bratton Security officer Lt. (jg) Toz Medical Officer USS ‘Oumuamua T239811T14

A wonderful and fascinating introduction to a critical side plot - bravo!! ((Medical Facility, Miranda VII)) /// Stardate 2400.02.11 /// Supplies are running low, Moray reports friction in Naystrims ranks. While he is attempting to de-escalate the situation, both Kravis and Bellamy are attempting to push project “El-Nar”. The embargo has caused a delay, but the project is still underway and treated with priority, implying that an escalation within the next few weeks is to be expected. Strict curfew and rationing are still enforced. /// Awaiting orders and urging to act as soon as possible. ‌ An access code and the press of a button sent the message out into the universe, and from here on Nestira Aristren could do nothing else than to naively believe that her contact received it, was able to forward it to Taybrim at Starbase 118, and that the Commodore would take action before it was too late. She was painfully aware of what would happen to her if she got caught, but she banished those thoughts quickly as she sensed Katalina approach her workstation. She needed to remain focussed on what she *could* influenced, not get stuck on matters outside her control. Katalina: Nyra, are you still not done with that file? I would like to get home *before* 2300 hours for a change. Aristren: Sorry. I’m hurrying. The woman sighed in annoyance and turned away from Nestira and the console. She walked to her own desk and began sorting through a number of PADDs that lay strewn across it. Aristren: You can go without me. Katalina: And explain Yavin why you’re late? I don’t think so. Just stop being slow. The Humans voice was harsh and her words not exactly comforting, but over the past weeks Nestira had learned that Katalina simply struggled to permit others to see that she cared about them. Upon her arrival as ‘Nyra’, Doctor Moray had clothed her, fed her, given her work and a place to stay. And then, when her younger brother Yavir had taken a romantic interest to the undercover Rodulan, Katalina had all but adopted her. Not that Nestira was particularly thrilled about any of this, but she could see the purpose it served. As much as Katalina’s poisoned thoughts and her involvement in Project El-Nar strained Nestira’s own mental health, spending so much time with the Doctor allowed her insights in no one else would get. As much as Yavir’s touch disgusted her, the physical closeness allowed him to not only provide Nestira with information, but allowed Nestira to influence his views and opinions when they spoke. Aristren: Done! Katalina offered a somewhat disdainful glance and a ‘then let’s get going’ before leading the way out of the medical facility. ‌ Even before the doors hissed open, Nestira knew which of the guards stood ready to escort them. She knew that one of them was considering to flee Miranda VII with his pregnant wife, while the other was itching for a chance to blow a hole into someone’s head. Luckily both of them were somewhat intimidated by Katalina. Nestira had to admit that part of her was pleased to see how quickly her telepathy had developed in the past weeks alone. As she had once explained to her then-partner Sa’sara, who wasn’t a telepath herself, that it was like looking up into the night sky. With the naked eye, only the biggest, brightest, and closest of stars were visible, and while one acknowledged their existence, one rarely truly looked at them and paid attention to the way they shone. In a usual setting, Nestira would perhaps hear the surface thoughts of those nearby, but chooe to ignore them like conversations not meant for her ears. It was what was considered ‘polite’. But now that her life and the success of her mission depended on actively paying attention, she found that her ‘universe’ was quickly expanding beyond what she could see before - And that was fascinating and empowering and terrifying all at once. Fascinating because she hadn’t thought that she could develop her telepathy into this direction, and how easy it truly was to listen in on the little worries and victories of those around her. Empowering because it made her feel in control. Safe. If someone came for her, she would sense them from miles away. And if she knew their thoughts she knew how to settle their concerns and remain undetected. Terrified because, sometimes, she was almost sure that there was something beyond the minds of the humans around her. Something brighter than anything she had seen before, beautiful and blinding at the same time. Part of her was curious about whatever the thing was- and the rest of her was wondering if the *thing* could see her too. Katalina: You are daydreaming. Aristren: I am. Sorry. Katalina offered one of those rare, almost maternal smiles. Katalina: I know it’s difficult to come to terms with. It’s not supposed to be easy. Nestira nodded slowly. The Doctor was, of course, speaking about project “El-Nar”. Named after a Betazed landmark, the Rodulan assumed that the place held some significance for Naystrim. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that it would mean the death of thousands of civilians aboard Miranda VII, whether they were part of Terra Prime or not. A massacre blamed on Starfleet, and an escape plan for Naystrim and those close to her. That included Katalina and Yavir Moray. And it would include Nestira. Aristren: I know. But Nestira had no intention to let this happen, and she was still coming to terms with not being entirely sure where she would stop in order to protect the innocents Terra Prime would sacrifice. ‌ ‌ The rest of the evening passed quickly. Dinner was sparse as usual - even Naystrim’s closest advisors were not exempt from the rationing - and under the pretext of a headache, Nestira avoided Yavir’s room for tonight. She could hear his dismay concerning the ‘ruined evening’ but credited him for not letting it show as he bid her goodnight. Slowly, the minds around her dimmed, allowing the Rodulan to relax. It wasn’t entirely impossible that someone would take this very moment to figure out that Nestira wasn’t as Human as she claimed to be, but it was very *very* unlikely, and the constant vigilance was beyond draining. It was soothing to close herself off telepathically, to be *alone*, even if it was only for a few moments. But she wasn’t alone. Nestira frowned. She had grown almost familiar with that strange, blinding presence, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t still curious about it. It was tempting to try and figure it out. Which was a bad idea. Retrospectively she wasn’t sure what made her deviate from her usual strategy of ignoring the presence, but that evening she turned towards it instead, tilting her head as she tried to figure out what exactly it was, and settled on the telepathic equivalent of a nudge. What could possibly happen? TBC…. ***************** Lt. J.G. Nestira Aristren Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4

((Kessler’s Quarters - Deck 4 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) The day seemed to pass by very quickly for Jack and he was looking forward to seeing Krystal and Lilou. The trip from the bridge to his quarters had been un-interrupted but when he arrived at their quarters he discovered both Krystal and Lilou were not there. Glancing around the living area Jack spied a white card folded in half and standing on it’s two ends on the dining table. He stepped over and retrieved the card from the table and opened it. “Taking Lilou to the arboretum to play - Krystal” Jack smiled. He was happy that Krystal and Lilou were getting along so well and that they were actually here for each other. Jack turned and walked over to his favorite chair and unzipping his tunic he slid down into the chair and picked up a PADD out of habit looking for a message from his parents. He paused and almost tossed the PADD across the room for the thought but stopped and leaned forward. He did have a message, but not from his parents. He tapped on the letter and it opened to the screen. He took in a long deep breath and then let it out slowly as he sat back and read the letter. USS Io - Stardate 240001.30 “Hello Jack. I know you are hurting and the lack of response tells me it is worse than you are letting on. Since you have decided to avoid this conversation I am forcing your hand. By the time you get this message I will be arriving on the ‘Oumuamua. See you in a bit. Love Michele” Jack sat up and tapped the message closed. Kessler: Computer (beat) Are there any personnel scheduled to arrive aboard the ‘Oumuamua today? Computer: Affirmative. Kessler: Who is the individual arriving? Computer: 1st Lieutenant Michele Winters Jack’s eyelids slowly closed and he tapped his combadge. Kessler: =/\= Kessler to sickbay. We have a medical officer coming aboard. Can someone meet me in the shuttle bay to welcome the shuttle? =/\= Hunched over his desk reviewing several articles from the starfleet medical database V’Len looked up when his combadge chirped. Kel: =/\= Kel here. I can head down now =/\= Rox: =/\= Is that Jack? Don’t go anywhere off the ship with him. He’s bad luck. I almost turned into a wrinkly space wizard. =/\= Kel: =/\= Thank you Nurse, I think I can handle it. Kel and Rox out. =/\= Kessler: =/\= Thank you. I am headed there now. =/\= Jack stood from his chair and headed out of his quarters rezipping up his tunic. It wasn’t that he was not happy to hear from or even to see Michele. The issue Jack was having was that he had created somewhat of a situation by not responding to any of her communications since his parents ship had been lost. Michele was not one to take no for an answer and she was not one to be ignored. V’Len toyed with the idea of taking Rox with him so she could learn how to properly greet a new member of the crew. Ensign Tyber had not only been tricked into doing Rox’s work, but had also taken an unplanned sim in the Cetacean ops pool. However, V’Len had barely seen Jack during shore leave. Typically, they would have been on the holodeck solving a mystery, but with the attempted murder of Jack, V’Len Nesre and Wes by the EMH and the loss of Jack’s parents, it seemed like the holodeck was off the table this time around. V’Len told Rox to watch the sickbay and then told Toz to watch Rox. ((Main Shuttlebay - Deck 10 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) Jack arrived just outside the main shuttlebay as did his counterpart from sickbay. Smiling he tilted his head towards the main doors and chuckled. Kessler: You’re in for a treat. Kel: Am I? ::looking around in mock nervousness:: Do I need a helmet? Jack smiled and almost laughed. He was not sure how Michele was going to come off that shuttle. If she was concerned he hoped for a warm welcome and things would go smoothly. If she was mad, he might need a security team to help out. Kessler: Let’s just say (beat) I know a little about this officer. Kel: Another relative? ::chuckling, then serious:: Are you and Krystal doing ok? You know if you need anything at all, you can always call on me. The two stepped in and up to the forward safety area. The bay doors were already open, and the vacuum of space kept out by the forcefield that would allow the shuttle to enter and land while the two waited. The shuttle was visible from outside as it approached and Jack’s anticipation grew. He felt his heart rate quicked, fear or nerves, he was not sure but the sensation of excitement also back filled the feelings he was having. V’Len waited and glanced over at Jack. He seemed somehow apprehensive and V’Len wondered who really was in that shuttle. Perhaps it was another of Jack’s relations after all. The type-14 shuttle entered the bay and slowly came down to the deck with a light thud. The boarding ramp lowered at the rear and Jack led the way towards the rear of the shuttle with V’Len in tow. Jack halted his approach as Michele exited the shuttle and stepped around to face Jack and his companion. His eyes locked with hers and for a moment so many questions seemed to bounce back and forth between them silently. V’Len glanced between the pair. He was clearly missing some context, but it was clear that this woman was more than just an acquaintance or someone Jack had met at the academy. Kessler: (slightly smiling) This is an ambush. The five foot, four inch tall human female smiled a deviant smile and lowered her gear to the deck and then stepped up to Jack, brushing her dirty blond hair back past her ears she placed both hands on Jack's head. One on either side of his temples and stood to her toes, pulling his face closer to hers until their lips almost met, then pausing with a tease she lowered herself back down to her heels. There was nothing more in her heart than love for this man but he had been avoiding her since his parents disappearance. He needed rescuing and this was why she was here. Jack’s heart leapt to his throat as she grabbed his head and pulled him down towards her as she stood on her toes to meet him. Her slim frame had remained the same in the year plus since they had last seen each other and his gaze fell into her green eyes. She knew how to completely take him off his feet in one movement and yet she paused just as their lips were about to touch, held for a breathless second and then slowly leaned back and away. Jack did not know what to feel at this exact moment but he knew that he wanted to kiss her and then throw her back on the shuttle before things became more complicated. V’Len raised his eyebrows. He was glad he had left Rox behind. Whatever was going on between Jack and this new officer V’Len was apparently being given a front row seat. Winters: It’s good to see you too Jack. (turning to the other officer standing beside Jack and holding out a hand to shake) Michele Winters. Kel: Ah yes (shaking the woman’s hand) Lt. V’Len Kel, I’m the Oumuamua’s chief medical officer. Winters: (smiling gracefully at Kel) Yes you are. Andorian and Trill. An extremely rare combination, of course if I read your bio correctly (beat) yours was via a transporter accident. An amazing story, I do hope we can talk about it sometime? (beat) From a medical standpoint of course. On the one hand it would save V’Len a lot of time explaining what happened, on the other hand it meant he needed to find something else to talk to the new lieutenant about. He suspected she was not going to be entranced by fungus quite the way Salo always seemed to be. Kessler: (looking between the two and finally resting back on Michele’s eyes) We need to talk about this visit. V’Len struggled to think of something to ask besides the obvious “how exactly do you and Jack know each other”? Were they a couple, engaged, married? V’Len had never heard Jack talk about a wife, not that Kel made a habit of talking about his personal life. He looked back at Michelle Winters. She wore a green shouldered uniform, so she was a marine of some sort apparently. Kel: So Lieutenant Winters, you’re a new addition to our marine contingent then? Kessler: (to V’Len) No, she’s just visiting for a little while. V’Len was surprised to see Jack scramble to collect Winters’ gear as they began to cross the shuttlebay. Winters: (brow furrowed) Not visiting Jack. (to V’Len) I have officially transferred to the ‘Oumuamua. I am a Combat Medic. Graduated Starfleet Academy with Jack and am a fully trained nurse as well as a trained Marine. (glancing back to Jack and smiling) We will remember that won’t we? V’Len was always glad for more help in the sickbay. Jack on the other hand seemed somehow less enthused. Michele walked past Jack who had as he always done grabbed her bag for her. His father had trained him well and Michele admired that in him even if he was not happy to see her. Of course this was his doing but she knew how much he internalized things and getting him to talk was something she had experience with. Kel: Well, all I can say is thank goodness. I often end up following Colonel Greaves into risky situations. He’ll have someone more qualified to assist him than a bumbling doctor who likes to study fungus. ::Chuckling:: Winters: Let’s not go racing into danger here doctor. I would prefer to get settled into Sickbay before having to patch anyone up in the field. Jack felt speechless and for the moment V’Len was taking the heat off of him. That at least gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and then pursue the two as they departed the shuttle bay. Kessler: Ok, so you are here for more than a visit. We still need to talk about this Michele. They exited into the corridor and the door to the shuttlebay hissed shut behind them. Jack smiled to himself as Michele continued walking alongside V’Len. She was totally ignoring him now. He wanted to laugh, he had just missed a kiss and had been demoted to bag boy all in less than five minutes. Kel: Well welcome, officially to the Oumuamau. I’m not sure where you’re heading off to, but I’d be happy to show you our sickbay. I’ve worked to make it an excellent facility. My colleague Dr. Toz is an amazing physician and our nursing staff (pause) well they’re mostly sane. Winters:(with a smile and a tilt of the head) Why thank you Doctor. I’m glad someone is happy I am here. Kessler: I never said I wasn't happy to see you. Jack might as well have been talking to the bulkhead. She had totally turned on the cold shoulder routine and now he was going to have to work to get her to respond. Oh he hated it when she did this, not because she knew she could torture him but because she was so good at it. Michele heard Jack but did not glance back or respond. He had avoided her and made her change duty posts just to get to talk to him. She knew what they had agreed to and why he wanted to talk about this transfer but she wasn’t going to change her mind. Not now, not after everything that had happened to him. Kel: At the risk of sounding indelicate, how exactly are Mr. Kessler and yourself acquainted? ::gesturing toward Jack:: Michele looked up at the Trilldorian and smiled and then allowed a disappointed look to cross her face. Had Jack really not mentioned her to anyone or maybe the Doctor just wasn’t close to Jack. Well, this was time for a change and Jack needed to come out of his shell. Winters: (smiling) Well, I can see that nearly three years of dating didn’t earn a mention to your crewmates Jack? And here I thought I was the one to melt your heart (grasping her chest with both hands in a dramatic tone) Well, maybe there’s another girl out here who has your attention? Michele smiled devilishly and looked over to the Doctor. V’Len for his part was beginning to understand the terms “third wheel” and “stepped in it”. Jack had never mentioned Michelle to him though V’Len regarded him as a close friend. The two options before him were that Jack did not regard him as closely or that things between Michelle and Jack were complicated. Given all the evidence V’Len tended to believe the latter rather than the former. Winters: So does he have a girlfriend aboard I should be jealous over? (smirking and almost laughing) They continued their journey through the Oumuamua. Entering the turbolift V’Len headed for deck 7 almost without thinking. Perhaps he subconsciously wanted to get back to the safety of his sickbay. In any event Michele’s question was not one V’Len wanted to answer. He was reluctant to bring up Jack’s relationship with Nesre. Firstly because he was not sure how Michele would react. Secondly because, after their dinner on Seytoxal, V’Len could not seem to get Nesre out of his mind. It had been difficult before, it was near impossible now. He decided to punt. Kel: Jack and the ladies. It's a legend that tells itself. Just ask the Delaney sisters. Jack threw a look at his friend. What was he saying? Not the best of ideas V’Len buddy. Kel: ::seeing Jack’s look, raising hands:: Kidding, of course. (beat) When I first met Jack I thought he was part of some celibate religious order. Kessler: Ok, ok. Enough is enough. (beat) V’Len, we were very serious towards one another but we both had career goals and knew post graduation that those career goals and a relationship was not going to work as we might like. Jack paused and turned to face both of them. Kessler: I think maybe she should report to Greaves and let him know she is aboard. It was more of a question to change the direction of the conversation away from the two of them. Although it seemed V’Len was enjoying himself in this conversation a little more than Jack would like. Winters: Nonsense Jack. I don't have to check in with the Colonel until 2100 hours. He’s in a meeting and I certainly do not want to interrupt that. The doors of the turbolift opened. Kel: I seem to have brought us to deck 7. This is where you’ll find sickbay. Gator deck, where our marines reside, is on Deck 4. There are no actual gators of course. ::nervous chuckle:: Michele shot the Trilldorian a smile at the joke and winked as she then looked back to Jack who stood quietly, reserving his comments. Winters: Oh there are plenty of Gators on that deck Doctor. Isn’t that right Jack? Jack found himself holding back. He did not want to get into a discussion here, in front of V’Len. Although his friend would probably find it humorous as Jack never found himself on the winning end of a conversation with Michele when she put her feet down. She came from a family of very strong willed individuals and having met her brother and sister knew why she did not back down and why she was who she was. In many ways Michele was the first person that he could say he truly loved but at the same time they had an agreement about their relationship and their careers. She had clearly violated that agreement and this needed to be dealt with but again Jack did not see the need to have it discussed in front of V’Len. Kessler: ::smiling at V’Len:: And they all have teeth buddy. ::looking back to Michele:: and claws. Michele grinned knowing Jack was prodding but she too had taught him this game and was ready to play. V’Len spoke next and made a suggestion but it did not play into her next move with Jack. Kel: I mean the sickbay is just around the corner if you’re interested. Winters: ::looking back to V’Len:: I am sure I will be spending more than enough time there. How about somewhere a little more fun? Kessler: ::looking to V’Len:: Don’t look at me buddy. I’m just the bag boy today. There was really only one place V’Len could think of, but Jack seemed keen to extricate himself from the bags and Michele. V’Len decided not to allow this to happen, he wanted to see how this played out. Kel: We could grab a drink in 7-Forward. (beat) You two could get a drink in 7-Forward. oO Did he really suggest that? Oo Jack knew V’Len had to have been holding back a laugh by the look on his face as he reacted to the look coming from Jack. He should have known V’Len was going to try and enjoy as much of this as he could. Winters: Sounds perfect ::looking at Jack and then back to V’Len:: and of course you should join us. I doubt he is going to talk much right now anyways. She shot Jack a grin that told him she was very much enjoying this little torture episode and she was not lettign him off the hook. All Jack wanted to do at that moment was simply lean in and kiss her, take her off her agenda and throw a monkey wrench into her little scheme but that would be giving in to her and right now he was not too happy with her. Kessler: 7-Forward is this way ::gesturing:: I could use a drink. Jack tossed her duffle up on his shoulder and walked past both V’Len and Michele leading the way to the forward lounge and letting them follow behind. They could enjoy their teasing at his expense together. He could wait out her game, he knew he had more patience than she did plus he knew exactly how to throw her off her game once they got to 7-Forward. They ordered refreshments and found a table along the wall. V’Len took a seat facing out into the room, while Jack and Michele sat at triangle points facing the wall. Kel: So, Lt. Winters, what’s your family like? You remind me a bit of my younger sister Rosro, so I’m guessing you’re not an only child. Rosro, V’Len’s younger sister, had always been tenacious. While she hadn’t quite settled on a course of study, Rosro was taking the Academy head on. She was strong willed and firm once she set her mind on a goal, much like Michele seemed to be. At this point Michele’s goal seemed to be Jack. Winters: Two other siblings, an older brother and a younger sister. ::beat:: You learn how to defend yourself when you are the middle child. The fact that Michelle was a middle child went a long way to explain many things that V’Len had observed about her. Kel: Indeed, and where did you say you grew up? Winters: I grew up in Austin, Texas on Earth but actually spent most of my time just outside Austin on my family's horse ranch. Kessler: ::looking from Michele to V’Len:: They own and run the largest equestrian ranch in North America. It’s actually very beautiful and they have some magnificent horses. V’Len paid no attention to the answer as he suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine. Across 7-Forward, Hurricane Rox coming toward them. In her hand she held her signature “blue squale” concoction. She was walking quickly toward them wearing a broad smile. V’Len tried not to change his facial expression and reveal how much danger he and Jack could potentially be in. By his reckoning Michele and Rox were fairly similar. If they got along Jack and V’len would be in deep trouble. If they did not get along…they could mutually annihilate each other, likely taking the ship with them. Rox: Eh,what’s up Doc? V’Len looked down and rubbed his forehead. They’d talked about this so many times. Jack had not noticed Rox’s approach but the look on V’Lens face was ever so priceless. Rox had that way with many people. You either loved her or she was all over your nerves. Jack found Rox a commercial relief and enjoyed her presence although there were times, such as now, that her presence might be a little more disruptive than fun. Rox: ::patting Jack on the head:: Hey Jackie! ::looking at Winters:; Hey new girl. I’m Rox, one of the nurses. ::glancing at Jack:: Don’t let this guy take you on any dates. Last time we went out he crashed us on an alien planet and I nearly got turned into a space frog. V’Len tried not to chuckle at Jack’s very flush face. It seemed that Rox had mischaracterized whatever had happened. Kessler: ::holding up a hand:: Wait, wait, that was not a date. Winters: ::eyeing Jack suspiciously:: Really? ::she drew the word out and in a questioning tone:: Rox: :: winking at Jack:: Sure keep telling yourself that. ::pulling up a stool to sit between Jack and Michele:: So what’s your story, new girl? New member of Greave’s angels? V’Len threw a panicked glance at Jack who seemed to be like him trapped. Jack merely smiled, a devilishly wicked smile back at V’Len and sat back. Titling up his drink he took a long draw of the Samarian Sunset. Kessler: Rox ::gesturing to Michele:: this is Michele Winters. ::beat:: Michele, this is Rox, one of the ship's nurses. Winters: ::extending a hand to Rox:: Happy to meet you. I am not sure I am an angel but I am a Combat Medic so I’ll be seeing you a lot in sickbay from the sounds of it. ::she threw a wicked fun grin to Rox and then one at Jack:: Rox: How fun we can be sisters in science! ::turning to V’Len:: You’re going to outnumbered sir. Jack did not know if she should be afraid for his friend or simply happy that he did not have to spend as much time in the same room as V’Len was going to have to deal with. Kel: I was already outnumbered. ::sigh:: Kessler: ::winking at V’Len:: You could just assign them to Charlie shift. Kel: ::quietly:: Tempting. Michele smiled, pressing her lips together and without moving her torso, reached her leg out under the table and kicked Jack in the shin. She must have nailed the perfect spot as he jerked back and almost poured his drink on himself. Winters: Guys vs girls? Really, Jackie? ::she used Rox’s pet name for Jack and then looked from Jack to V’Len to rox:: So Rox, tell me about this date? ::beat:: Does he take many girls off ship to strange new worlds? Rox: ::pouting and feigning hurt:: I thought…I thought I was the only one. Jack threw both hands up and looked between the two women. Kessler: It was not a date. There were others there too. ::beat:: Not a date. Winters: ::still smirking at his sudden defense:: What’s wrong Jack? She looks and sounds like your type. Now she was just baiting him and Jack threw a look to V’Len that might have very well yelled run. Michele and Rox were more likely to hit it off and be friends than mortal enemies which for Jack could have been useful. Rox for her part very much liked Michele. She stood up and waved wildly at Koryan to get his attention. She pointed at her half empty glass and then made a “V” with her fingers. Rox: You have to try one of these, they're my favorite. Kel: :: looking at Jack, concerned:: I think we have a problem. Kessler: ::looking at V'Len and shaking his head:: I think we’re both outnumbered. Winters: ::smiling and then drinking down the last swallow off her glass of Oberon:: Of course you are and the sooner you surrender, the easier your lives will be. ::leaning back in her chair and looking out the forward windows at the planet below:: Do they have horses down there? Kel: I’m not sure, I just went down to the mountains to practice a hobby of mine. Rox: What hobby? You don’t have any hobbies, unless you were collecting fungus. V’Len decided not to respond and was grateful when Jack spoke up. Kessler: After my last excursion ::beat:: I am not leaving the ship anytime soon. The last trip off the ship had seen Rox almost turned into a rainbow colored oompa loompa, accompanied by dart slinging primates and a temporal something or other that he still had not figured out was more than enough to keep him aboard the ship for a while. Michele on the other hand was still playing with Jack and now that Rox was here, the two of them seemed all too willing to tag team on both him and V’Len. Winters: ::to Rox while grinning at V’Len:: So does the Doctor here and Jack have their own boys club? Seems like they are better friends than they are letting onto. The waiter arrived with two tall glasses of blue liquid, each with a small shot glass of brown liquid floating on the surface. The waiter gracefully slid the try onto the table, looked to each patron, and beat a hasty retreat. Rox: They spend a lot of time in the holodeck together. Not sure what’s going on there. Kel: ::exasperated:: We’re solving mysteries. I told you that. Winters: ::smiling and throwing looks between V’Len and Jack:: A boys holodeck mystery club, interesting. ::she drew that last word out implying suspicion:: Jack grinned at Michele and Rox. They were having fun and as much as Jack hated the idea of Michele being assigned to the ‘Oumuamua he enjoyed seeing her and seeing her happy. Kessler: ::grinning and shaking his head:: We solve mysteries, ::beat:: it’s not a mystery club. Rox: What you guys do in your freetime is none of my business. ::gesturing at the drinks:: Try this new girl. It’s my own invention, Romulan Ale, Andorian Ale and syrup of squill. The shot is Saurian brandy. I call it a blue squale with a rowboat. Winters: ::reaching for the glass:: That sounds like a fun drink. Kessler: ::looking to V’Len and simply shaking his head and smiling:: V’Len watched in fascination as both women took long drinks and then sat the glasses down on the table with a snap. Rox: Good right? You should try one V’Len. Winters: ::setting the glass down and looking at Rox, making an O expression with her lips:: That is devine. A wonderful balance too. ::looking to Jack:: Have you tried this? Kessler: No ::holding up his dram:: I like this. Michele eyed Jack and narrowed her eyebrows at him. He was someone who didn’t always like trying new things but she had broken that shell once and would break it again. Before she could start in on Jack though V’Len spoke up. Kel: I don’t drink Saurnian Brandy. Rox: That’s right, ::smiling at Michele:; There was an incident at the academy. Something with noodles right? Kel: ::moodily:: There was NO incident and we’re changing the subject. ::Turning to Jack:: That guy you brought back from your date with Rox is recovering nicely. Winters: ::smiling at Rox:: Noodles? Oh, I have to hear about this. Kessler: ::looking away from the girls:: Any new information on what happened? A mischievous smile began to fill Rox’s face. V’Len was immediately concerned. Jack noticed the look on V’Len’s face just as Rox’s voice rose up in excitement. Rox: Come with me, new girl. Jack grab her things. Rox rose and began to head out of seven forward. V’Len, feeling a bit sorry for Jack, picked up a few of Michele’s items. They were heavier than V’Len would have expected. Perhaps Michele had a brick collection she’d brought along. They made their way down the corridor and back into the turbolift, taking it down to deck 9j and cargo bay area. The group soon found themselves in a quiet area of the deck near cargo bay 3. ((Outside Cargo Bay 3, Deck 9, USS Oumuamua)) Kel: Why are we here? Rox: To make sure people remember us. Winters: This sounds fun. Michele shot a look over to Rox and then to Jack who looked a bit confused as to why they had come down to the cargo bay. Michele had no clue herself but this Rox seemed to enjoy having fun and even poking jabs at Jack and he didn’t bite back. Jack must consider her a friend since he played along with her suggestions. He had always been a good sport but some people did get on his nerves and Michele knew a couple back at the academy that had done so. Rox opened the small utility closet near the airlock and handed out the EVA suits. She began putting one on. Winters: Are we going on a walkabout? ::Michele said in her best Australian accent:: Kessler: ::smirking:: Knowing Rox, this is a costume party. Rox: ::teasingly:: Yeah, Jack, we’re getting ready for a costume party. Yes, we’re going outside. Put your suit on. Jack threw a look over to V’Len and then to Rox. It made sense now, and he allowed a smile to crease his lips. Jack had not partaken in this ritual as of yet and had actually dismissed it as something he felt he needed to do. On the other hand this would be fun but Rox was forgetting something very important. V’Len for his part was unsure what to do, but obediently followed the others. He’d not spent a lot of time in EVA situations, but he’d had the training and was confident he would not embarrass himself too badly. Kessler: ::stepping into his suite:: So Rox, how are you bypassing the security lock outs on the airlock? ::beat:: You know that the bridge will be alerted the minute you try to open those doors? Winters: ::looking at the others:: don’t look at me. I am so new here I am sure I am not even in the computer yet with access codes to open that door. Rox smacked her head in mock concern. The last time she had been here Basilla had been with her and had simply overridden the airlock controls. Michele finished securing her EVA suit and waited to secure her helmet in place as the others finished suiting up. Kel: Jack may have a point. I don't think there’s a medical override for the airlock. At least no one that doesn’t let the system know exactly who opened the door. Rox: Oh come on Jack, don’t be silly. The last time I was here Basillia used her security access to override the controls and anonymously opened the airlock. ::gesturing at the door:: Show us your stuff. Jack looked at Rox and shook his head in a manner indicating she would get them busted for sure. He then looked at V’Len and shook his head again in a manner indicating that too was not going to work. Kessler: There are newer protocols in place in the internal sensors that those ideas would trigger. You might be able to get away with them a few months ago but the Colonel had these new protocols instated that prevent those bypasses. ::stepping over to the control interface and pulling the panel open, he removed two isolinear chips and rearranged them:: Now we just need to tell the bridge that this airlock is running a diagnostic mode and sensors are offline. Rox: Show off. Michele watched Jack from behind and listened to his voice. She had missed the sound of his voice more that she had realized and it was refreshing and intoxicating to hear it now, even if they were doing something against the rules. V’Len was impressed at Jack’s quick thinking. He suspected they would need to do a lot of hacking, but instead this seemed like something anyone could do. Winters: How are you going to do that without tipping your hand to the bridge crew? Jack glanced back to Michele and then to the others and smiled. Rox: Who cares as long as he gets it open. Kel: What are we doing once we’re outside again? Kessler: ::tapping a few sequences into the interface:: Like this. Jack tapped the last sequence in and the lights in the room turned red and the “Secured” message that appeared on the control interface disappeared. Smiling and knowing he was not going to give up his secret he lifted his helmet and slid it on over his head and locked it in place. As the others did the same he opened the weapons locker and retrieved and phaser and handed it to Rox. Kessler: I’m assuming you’ll need this to accomplish this next task? ::winking at Rox:: Winters: ::securing her helmet:: Are we going to shoot something? Rox snatched the phaser out of Jack’s hand and brought the visor of her helmet down with a snap. She marched into the airlock and looked back to see that the other followed. Rox: Let’s go people. Michelle, you’re going to love this. The airlock cycle was not slow, but it still took a bit and V’Len found his mind wandering. When Rox mentioned Michele’s name it triggered something inside his mind. Kel: ::singing:: Michelle, ma belle, Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble, Très bien ensemble. Winter: ::smiling at V’Len and then looking to Jack:: You never sang to me. I think I like this guy. Kessler: Then consider yourself fortunate. Jack was not a person who could carry a tune to save his life and he would not subjugate anyone to that level of torture unless absolutely necessary or insanely intoxicated, which had only happened once. Rox: ::stomping a foot:: V’Len cut that out! V’Len stopped singing immediately. He’d not even noticed that he started, but it was a habit that particularly annoyed Rox. Rox: ::Looking at Michele:: He does that all the time in Sickbay. He thinks he was a musician in a past life. Kel: I WAS a musician in a past life. Remember, ::pointing to his head:: symbiote. Winters: ::looking to V’Len:: That has to be amazing ::Beat:: I mean being able to experience all of those life times. The memories must be incredible. Kessler: ::chuckling:: Were you a detective in one of those past lives? Maybe from Toronto? The airlock cycle could not conclude fast enough and when it finally did Rox hurried out onto the underside of the saucer. Above them, or maybe below, the planet of Sexyatol glowed as the sunset fell on the area below them. Toward the northern part of the hemisphere it appeared that a storm was imminent. Arching lighting could be seen flashing between black clouds. Kel: ::looking up at the sunset and the storm:: That’s something we don’t see everyday. Jack looked away from V’Len and lost his train of thought as he looked at the wondrous sight before them. Kessler: Sure isn’t. ::beat:: It’s mesmerizing isn’t it? Winters: ::turning to Rox:: This was worth the trip out here for sure. This is so beautiful. The others looked up in awe but Rox headed straight for the nearby panel where she and Basillia had come previously. It appeared no one else had visited to add their name. She handed the phaser to Michele and nodded to the panel. Michele looked down and away from the wondrous sight they were viewing which she now guessed was not the reason Rox had brought them outside of the ship. A panel on the ship, worn from time and encounters the ‘Oumuamua had experienced was laden with initials inscribed by others who had come before them. Michele smiled and looked back to Rox. Rox: Ladies first. Winters: ::taking the phaser and slowly engraving her initials:: This should be a tradition on every starfleet vessel. Kessler: ::taking the phaser next, he looked to Michele and smiled:: How do you know it is not? V’Len watched as Michelle and then Jack added their initials. V’Len wondered what to write. Rox had written RQX which was a neat trick to get her last name in there. Kel would be easy enough to write, but then it wasn’t the symbiote that was here, it was him, V’Len the doctor. Maybe he should just put Doctor. Kel: My turn eh? V’Len accepted the phaser from Jack and aimed it at the hull. The V seemed o.k, writing with a phaser was tougher than he expected. He used a dot for the apostrophe for fear it would look like an ‘S’. The rest went reasonably well. Kel: Well, Let’s hope the Zet don’t fire at this exact panel in the future. Winters: Maybe this panel should be preserved during our next resupply? Kessler: ::looking at the panel and then back at the storm and the sunset over the planet:: Take it all in guys. We won’t get to see this again for a long time. Rox: Welcome aboard Michele. You’ve got 2 down on your Oumuamau bingo card and you’ve only been here 2 hours. ****** Lieutenant V’Len Kel Chief Medical Officer USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player) & Rox Nurse USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (player) She/Her (character) & Lt.jg Jack Kessler Asst. Chief Tactical Officer USS ‘Oumuamua T239901JK1 & 1st. Lt. Michele Winters Combat Medic USS 'Oumuamua T239901JK1

Love the atmospheric vibe, the ambience (the bringing in of midnight, the nostalgia and the stories, with the descriptions and fantastic details, warm light and fireflies). Nicely done! @Alieth & @Quinn Reynolds

Well well well, if it isn't a glorious JP from our resident lovelys @Hiro Jones and @Trovek and Sydin - a great example of counselling on leave

The continuing adventures of Wyla Avae and the Twibbles.... (( Bay of Sickness )) The black sand beaches of the Bay of Sickness seemed to span on forever as the small troupe of theirs traversed it still, Wyla had lost track of any semblance of the passage of time. Since Nibble joined their group, they’d had it a bit easier, despite there being more fights. Almost a dozen since they had first set furry paws onto the beach and more of those formidable skeleton mages had accosted them. Or maybe it was the same one coming back, she couldn’t say for certain. The tallies for Swibble and Ribble was in the hundreds at this point and the two were quietly bickering with one another as they walked, eyes focused on the sands ahead and around them for any signs of movement. Swibble: It doesn’t matter how many zombies were on that walking pile of fish bones. That still only counts as one! Ribble: Methinks thou dost protest much because thou knowest thou art losing! The pair nudged one another, which annoyed Sylara enough to hoot while Pibble kept them on course. She was grateful they were so skilled otherwise she knew they’d have gotten lost a long time ago and that thought terrified her as much as any of the monsters that were trying to get her. Libble now stuck closer to Twibble, who’s massive paws left deep imprints in the soft sand and made the loudest squeaks. Both Twibble and Wyla were looking worse for wear. As everything seemed intent on getting to her, which meant Twibble had been fighting the hardest. Kwibble and Nibble covered their rear, quietly conversing from time to time. Wyla looked the worst of them all. Bags under her eyes had started to appear on her face and the more of those monsters that got to her and drained her life force, the weaker she felt. Libble’s healing seemed to have diminishing returns the longer they journeyed. Pibble called out from ahead of them anxiously. Pibble: This isn’t good. The group quickly joined Pibble who stood in front of a towering cliff that rose up above them. There was a slender path barely wide enough for a normal sized twibble, with solid, jagged rock on one side and a drop, who knew how deep on the other. Wyla groaned seeing it as there was no way that poor Twibble was going to be able to cross that, with or without her on his back. Avae: Hnn..what do we do? ::She murmured and squeezed his fur:: Ribble: We climb up! Verily! ::he looked around at everyone and deflated a little:: No? Fine. Twibble: We’ll fiigure something out. Maybe Nibble has some magic that caan help us? Nibble: I can certainly try. Let me think for a moment. The sage moved up to the narrow path and surveyed it for a moment while Twibble laid on the sand to rest a moment. The others took up watch around them. Kwibble: Be wary everyone, last time we stopped those things came at us. She said confidently, sword in hand, whilst looking back the way they’d come from. Swibble and Ribble stood at the ready to their left while Pibble and Libble covered the right. A few minutes or moments at least passed and Ribble seemed to be staring at a spot on the mountainside further away from where they rested and the lone, precarious path. Avae: Ribble? Ribble: I dost believe I see something. There. ::He gestured with one of his climbing axes:: After a brief discussion the group decided to investigate Ribble’s finding and Nibble studied it for several moments. Nibble: I believe, yes, there’s a passage behind this portion of stone. Nibble took a moment and gestured, a soft glow formed around her hand before it illuminated a faint crease in the stone that eventually flared and rumbled as the stone door shifted back and to the side to reveal a dark passage. Swibble and Ribble exchanged glances, grins and both tilted their heads back and proclaimed. Both: Secret tunnel!! Wyla couldn’t help but giggle softly at their silly outburst, as the passage was revealed and noted the not so subtle head shake from Twibble, followed by a lengthy feline sigh. Twibble: And theey’re my second aand thiird in command because? She giggled and nuzzled against his mane. Wyla’s light filled the passage, for several meters, to give them a view ahead. The ground was solid stone, which was something at least. Zombies and skeletons couldn’t come at them from below. She hoped. But she remembered the last time they were in tight spaces. She hoped there wouldn’t be anymore fighting. But part of her knew better. Twibble: If you’d be so kiind, Pibble? Pibble took the lead once more and they all followed, with just enough room to walk in their usual formation but much closer than before. It was almost uncomfortable. So Ribble and Swibble moved to the front with Pibble. While Libble went to the back with Kwibble and Nibble. Nibble: We’re getting close. Up ahead should be the ruins where the Spine of Paralysis Removal is located. It was made long ago by the Replicator of Gen’tronic. An old kingdom that used to exist here. The Replicator was their greatest smith. It is logical to assume that the great smith may have created defenses that may still be functional. We should proceed with caution. Wyla nodded as Nibble spoke of the ancient ruins they headed towards and possible dangers. There was a loud rumbling behind them as the stone moved to once more cover the entrance to their little passageway that started to ascend slightly. A final echo of Ribble and Swibble’s voices emanated from the closing stone door before being silenced completely. Secret Tunnellllllllll!!!! To be continued…. ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

Another one of those sims I had delayed putting here! @Tahna Meru is a marvel at writing her character, deep, thoughtful, she is able to go back to details from months ago creating a delightful continuity in the story and a wonderful sense of progression and growth. Watching her develop as a writer and an officer has been a privilege, and I think she's going PLACES. Even more so if she continues to write with @Bryce Tagren-Quinn , a rising star for me too, meticulous and beautifully described. These two girls have worked a great scene together, give us more of these two together! ((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon)) A quiet hush fell over the campsite as the Admiral and First Officer took the makeshift stage. Reynolds: Midnight approaches, so if I can steal your attention for a short while before we ring in the new year. Neathler: Don’t worry, there will still be plenty of drinks after we’re done. Reynolds: Those of you who’ve been with the Gorkon for a while know I like to start my presentations with one of the hardest ribbons to receive… Ribbons, medals, and promotions were passed around to the gathered officers, accompanied by words of praise for their actions. Meru always found awards ceremonies awkward, no matter how they were dressed up (or, in this case, dressed down). She understood them; it was important to recognize the work of the crew, and the ribbons could be encouraging reminders of what you’d done and survived. But it was kind of like getting a souvenir from the trauma gift shop. She cheered anyway, for her friends and comrades, because strange as the whole thing was, they earned this celebration. Ena’s award brought a particular swell of pride, though the younger Bajoran wasn’t there to receive it, and Meru made a mental note to congratulate her friend as soon as the night was over. A lightshow lit up the sky as the presentation drew to a close, marking midnight and the changing of the year. “Happy 2400” blazed across the night, accompanied by the joyous cheers of her shipmates, and she raised her nearly-empty cider in a toast, as she saw others doing. Loxley slipped away in the aftermath, probably going after the fresh desserts, and Meru turned back to Bryce. Tagren-Quinn: I suppose—I guess there’s no question if it’s Binch or Finch now. He smirked, teasing, and Meru made a face of awkward discomfort that further scrunched up her nose, before giggling. Tahna: Guess not. Tagren-Quinn: Have–have you heard of a New Year’s resolution? Do Bajorans have a tradition something like that? She shook her head. Tahna: No, I don’t think so. I’m not super familiar with the tradition—it’s a Human thing, right? Tagren-Quinn: On Earth, some will commit to goals like weight loss or being more devout in their religions. A personal goal, a behavioral adjustment deemed important enough to focus on, to improve upon. It’s not something that I’ve historically done but I think—I think this year, it should change. He seemed conflicted, almost pained. After a moment’s pause, the expression faded, turning to sturdy resolve. The light from the campfire made his eyes look that familiar, bright, youthful green once more. Tagren-Quinn: Never been good about opening up with folks and that’s worked against me. For a time, I felt much like my El-Aurian ancestors, though—aimlessly drifting, nomadic, not really belonging anywhere—but after tonight… I am—thankful for the community here, gathered around this camp, and for your friendship. I am not sure how that really rolls into a resolution but it’s a thought I just now had. Meru nodded. It was a rare moment of openness, and she wasn’t quite sure how to react. No witty remarks sprung to mind, all the encouragement she could offer seemed shallow compared to the genuine honesty he’d just expressed. So she smiled, and nodded, and before she could think of something appropriate to say he continued. Tagren-Quinn: Any–anyway, the mug’s getting a little empty and that cider's calling. Can never have just one mug. What do you say? Another trip to the tables, maybe congratulate some of our comrades along the way? She smiled, grateful to bring some levity back to the conversation—and regretful. She wasn’t the best at handling big emotions like this, she never had been. Just because it was easier to switch to something lighter didn’t mean that was the right solution, and at some point compartmentalizing could turn into flat-out ignoring. Tahna: Yes, we can’t let the cider run out! That would be a tragedy. Congratulations to you, by the way. First Contact is big! Tagren-Quinn: Response Her free hand fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as they walked back toward the tables, and her mind drifted back to the idea of resolutions. Tahna: We don’t have New Years resolutions, but I guess it’s kind of like a renewal scroll. Tagren-Quinn: Response Tahna: Yeah, I mean, it’s a completely different holiday, but it’s the same idea. You’re burning your past problems, making yourself and the world a better place in the days ahead. And they did have a campfire, though it was entirely the wrong holiday and culture. She could imagine throwing her troubles onto the fire, walking into the new century a better woman. There was no reason, beyond the calendar, that you couldn’t toss your problems on a fire multiple times a year if it made you feel better. Tagren-Quinn: Response Tahna: For my New Years renewal scroll… She cracked a grin at the newly hybridized tradition, though it faded as she considered. There were plenty of things she regretted about the past year, and most came from a place of defensiveness and fear of getting hurt. She wasn’t sure she was ready to share that tonight, but…he’d been honest, hadn’t he? Risked vulnerability? So it was only fair. Meru took a deep breath before continuing, her eyes fixed on the tables ahead. Tahna: I tend to avoid things just because they might end badly. Like– like my mom. We haven’t spoken in… ::She stifled the urge to end there and change the subject.:: We don’t see eye to eye, or get along, but I wish we could try to. I’ve just been too scared to even begin fixing that relationship. So, I’d burn that unnecessary defensiveness. She mimed tossing something into the fire, and laughed lightly to break the tension. Tagren-Quinn/Any: Response

These last few weeks have been a bit of a mess and I haven't been able to upload as many sims here as I wanted to, but this one was reserved to post here for a good reason. Firstly, it's @Jo Marshall 's delightful prose, as always, gorgeous, deep and beautiful. Secondly, the wonderful way in which the dialogue fits @Quinn Reynolds 's characters, seamlessly. Simming goals. ((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon)) Across the campsite from them, past the rows of delightful lantern-lit cabins already warm for the night ahead, Jo caught sight of Alieth and their newest transfers, Finch and T'Lar, chatting the evening away. That's what they'd always used those evenings for. Getting to know the crew, getting to know one another. Talk, drink, eat, and celebrate together in the eventuality that one day, one of them might not be there to see it. Ever aware, her blue eyes combed over the campsite. Marshall: You'd think, doing what we do, he'd want to be a Marine Biologist on Deluvia IV, instead. At least the weather would be better for most of the year. Reynolds: He did want to be a marine biologist, for a little while. After the Eagle crashed, he was fascinated with the oceans and sea life for a long while. Brunsig: I remember the lectures. Trying to catch up on PADDwork and suddenly a hand-drawn picture of a Bolian sugarshark in front of your eyeballs. ::A hint, only a hint, of a smile creased the corners of his blue eyes as he looked toward Jo.:: Live in the equatorial seas of Bolarus, entirely vegetarian, and feed on sweetkelp—in case you were wondering. Marshall: That's the life. ::Her smile twitched at the edges of her lips as she folded her arms, sealing in the warmth.:: I remember his sugarsharks. Still got one in the Operations office on the hall of doodle fame. Has it really been that long? He was knee-high to a grasshopper last week. Coming on board the ship felt simultaneously like a glacial age and a week ago, when Dylan had run around the ship with the energetic exuberance of his young age, when the lithe Fleet Captain of the Gorkon had seen them all safely back home to their actual reality. He'd grown so quickly, and with such an old head on his shoulders, it felt like a Q had erased the years between. He could ride on his own now, she didn't need to show him as much anymore, and aside from small course corrections, he'd soon be speeding on his own bike. Reynolds: I suppose I’d fret whatever he’s doing. ::She exhaled through a rueful sigh.:: In the end, it just comes down to what you’re worrying about, rather than whether you are. Marshall: He's a smart kid. The only one I know that can run rings around you when it comes to dismantling a replicator at speed. ::She tongued her cheek as a small idea bloomed in blue.:: We should make that a challenge. Line you up in the Cargo Bay and time it. A daft idea, presented for the amusement of her friend, whose worry lines would one day represent a relief map of Bajor riverbeds. Stretching her boots out in front of her, Jo crossed them over, feeling the thickness of the socks inside, the woolly scratch on her skin and the delight in just… being outside in the natural world again. Flanked by trees on all sides, breathing in their expelled oxygen, feeling the stress slip away from her brain stem. Retiring to a quiet colony seemed like a good idea. Somewhere they could go on hikes, cultivate a garden, read and relax and do not much else. Reynolds: Anyway. Walter and I were talking; he thinks we should organise a reunion for everyone who was on the Gorkon during our time Over There. Brunsig: Dominion War vets do it all the time. ::He sipped from his brandy flask, and held it out to Jo once more.:: Gives people permission to talk about what happened, pay their respects to the dead, reminisce about the non-soul-crushing moments, eat vast amounts of cake, gently weep in each other’s arms, yadda yadda. Marshall: It's those yadda yadda moments that really give it the flavour. Taking the proffered hipflask, Jo knocked back a swig from it with all the burning sensation to go with it. Strong wasn't the word; smooth was probably nearer, with a post-swallow sensation of liquid lava. Knowing better than to offer it in the semi-circle she would if Erin were with them, Jo passed the flask back to Walter and nodded, approvingly. Marshall: I like the idea of it, though. ::Her mouth mulled around the thought.:: Tell me more. And as the party continued, the celebrations winding into the evening, the three friends sat, drink, and talked about a future that seemed perpetually on the horizon, just waiting for them to explore it. fin -- Commander Jo Marshall Chief of Operations USS Gorkon, NCC-82293 G239304JM0

I really enjoy how @Sal Taybrim's writer allows us a peek into Sal's family dynamics, and it was great to see Commodore Taybrim in the role of a younger sibling. Those little things are what makes the character so alive and I can't wait to read more. Because there is more... right?

Justin / @Yalu reasserts himself as a tugger of heartstrings with this beautiful slice of family life.

The subtelty of the writing, Nkai's inner thoughts, the brushing of Cheesecake's wet nose against his hand 🐕 just a lovely read! @Quinn Reynolds Lt. Commander Caedan Nkai - A Cheesecake and Her Muffin Are Not Easily Parted

Part 3 of the Twibble Saga ... ============= (( Shattered Halls of Cata Maran )) The halls seemed to go on forever, like a labyrinth of the same stone worked to resemble the familiar corridors of the ship she’d called home for so many years. Except, as they progressed the stone was more cracked, more sparks showered them as they passed, more passages that had collapsed entirely. Wyla was finding it harder to focus on everything. They had been in so many fights. The darkness all around them just outside her protective light had repeatedly managed to send shades through. Harming themselves in the process just to get to her. Her brave, wonderful protectors through all of that were still with her. Even after they’d nearly lost Ribble to a swarm of shades because he stood between her and them, tearing the shadows apart while they reciprocated. Libble had healed him as she did, only for Swibble to smack him, then hug him, then tell him that she still had a higher total of vanquished shades than him by two. These protectors didn’t lose their joy and hope. It helped her to keep on, even though all she could do was lay there on Twibble back. Her poor Twibble. Even his beautiful fur was showing signs of the battles fought. Some of the shades had started to manifest magic during their last battle, they hurled orbs or beams of darkness that oddly burned when they hit you. A few patches of fur were singed slightly but the powerful lion still carried her on. Pwibble: There! The exit of the Halls! The navigating twibble proclaimed, their anchor pointed in the direction ahead where a faint light bloomed still. Wyla smiled a bit and looked up at the exit. Maybe they were close to the artifact now! Avae: Good news! Thank you Pibble, you did so well to get us through all of that. The twibble beamed a smile at her and the others rushed with vigor out of the open doorway. The light grew brighter for a moment so she shielded her eyes and when her vision cleared again she looked about. Where she had hoped to see a bright open sky was that ever present and oppressive darkness. Only her own light showed the terrain around them. Sand? She heard the crunch of sand beneath Twibble’s claws as the troupe continued onward a few meters from the exit to the Halls. Wyla looked back, seeing an oddly Akira shaped mountain side, with several peaks broken and piled like hills of rubble. Swibble: Finally! Warmth! Ribble: Thou art nary going to letteth that rest, are thee? Swibble slowly turned back to Ribble and blepped ever so slightly, their tongue stuck out just enough to get the point across before the pair exchange childish gestures with one another. Wyla couldn’t help but giggle. The sound must have been odd, or something because she felt all of their eyes on her and she blushed a little. Avae: W..what did I do? Twibble: You laaughed Wyla. The fiirst time since we found you. Libble: He’s right. It’s a great sound. And see, the light is brighter! She was right. As Wyla looked up she noticed her illuminatory bubble had extended a little bit. Letting them see more of the terrain. They were indeed on a beach. The sound of heavy rolling waves filled the air, and she could smell the sea. But it was otherwise eerily quiet. There were no birds. And the sand looked black, but it squeaked when they walked. For a moment, it reminded her of the party on the caldera. With sand so soft it squeaked too. She missed being able to feel the sand under her feet. To be able to curl her toes into it. The light flickered. Twibble: Wyla…Wyla…aare you alriight? Sickly groans echoed around them as the sand shifted, bubbling up or rising as figures, dozens of them emerged from beneath. Bodies. Glowing red eyes. Corpses. Libble: Oh no…I know where we are. Swibble: Well, tell us!! She demanded while holding her blade in hand. All of the twibbles readied themselves and moved to defensive positions around Wyla and Twibble. Libble: The Bay of Sickness. (( Bay of Sickness )) The horde of risen corpses shambled towards them all, their clothes tattered mixes of gold and red and blue and teal. Ribble, Sylara and Swibble covered the left flank, fighting with blade and fist, claw and beak. As each zombie fell, four more rose up. Ribble had started using the pair of climbing axes that, to this point, had just hung from his belt. The incorrigible pair called out each felled enemy, adding to their tallies. Pwibble swept aside several in front of them with each swing of that anchor, but more just rose up behind them. Libble bolstered them all with her medkit and patched up wounds. While Kwibble fought hard to cover the right flank, that sword cleaved several. While Twibble spun in place, slapping, clawing, biting and roaring at each zombie in turn. They moved down the beach, a constant slog of a battle but they were moving forward. Not losing ground. A bright burst of dark fire erupted suddenly in between Ribble and Swibble that sent both of them into the air a few meters before they hit the sand again. Singed. All eyes shifted ahead to a tall figure, skeletal, eyes glowing bright red but more crisp than the zombies. Wyla squinted to see them and could swear that they were made of metal bones. The right arm was a large crossbow, with bolts that seemed to magically replenish and burned with a dark green fire at the tips. The left hand glowed with an orb of darkness, more magic. Skeleton: Fools. If we fall, we will always rise again. They gestured and the dark orb burst dozens and dozen of black tendrils that struck the already defeated corpses. Each one touched was enveloped in the tendrils that wrapped around them, being lifted back to their feet, their eyes aglow once more. Swibble: ::She picked herself up off the sand:: Fvadt! Wyla cringed. Her brave protectors got back up, stood around her and readied for more fighting. For the first time since she woke up here, they’d stopped moving forward. She saw the skeleton’s ballista arm point in her direction and fire. It flew so fast towards her she didn’t realize she’d yelped until it exploded a couple of meters in front of her. She winced and waited for pain that never came. Bravely she opened an eye and saw the most beautiful shimmering dome of energy around them all. Vibrant blue that had coalesced around them somehow. Kwibble: Yes!!!! I knew she’d make it! Wyla looked to Kwibble who excitedly gestured with the ancient sword of hers to an outcropping of rocks by the shore to their right. Standing atop it was a lone twibble in blue, with similarly pointed fur to Ribble and Swibble though she had a cute little fur ponytail. She held a small talisman in hand that glowed with light, rectangular-ish in shape that looked like the newer Tricorders. Their other hand outstretched towards Wyla’s group, the limb also aglow with the same blue energy as the barrier around them. N: I would have been here sooner but I had to find a replacement. ::She held up the talisman:: Kwibble: You’re in twibble now you shiny metal monster! ::She called out to the skeleton ahead:: Wyla smiled at Kwibble’s enthusiasm, despite the terrifying sight around them. The shield eventually lowered and the mage with the ballista arm turned its focus onto their new arrival. Avae: ::she whispered to the lion she clung to:: Who’s that? Twibble: Niibble. She blinked. Avae: Are you asking me to nibble you, or that you’ll only tell me if I let you nibble me? Or you’ll tell me after you finish nibbling on that zombie? I’m confused. There was a rumbling chuckle from the lion, which was a little awkward given that he had a zombie in his mouth at the time. Twibble: ::He spit out the zombie:: Nibble’s her name. She’s our Sage. The Antosian’s mouth opened into an ‘oohhhhhh’ and she nodded. Now they had magic of their own. Maybe they could get through this after all. To be continued…. ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

Those first few scenes as a new player are always intimidating and, in this case for Mr. Hobart, doubly so because he's on the Bridge a few hours after showing up. Still he manages to jump right in and contribute with some wonderful characterizations and observations, along with some follicular humor, starting our Act 3 off on a great note. Well done Ensign! ======================================== ((Deck One, Bridge, USS Arrow)) Commander Niac leaned back in discomfort in the command chair on the Bridge, before rising to survey the assembled and assigned crew. Hobart in his own kind of discomfort, tucked away into the proverbial corner of a round-ish room, fell back onto his accidental mantra. It was something he took to saying in Academy simulations, when he found himself in a place like this. The simulations were all contrived to find a way to make cadets of varying specialties all act together as bridge crew. Every bit of his training, every component system he memorized, every tool he learned, had him situated if not in the beating heart of Main Engineering, then somewhere in a Jefferies tube, which from inside felt a bit like a ship’s digestive tract. But every major simulation had him situated right where he was, at the stern of the bridge, looking at a screen, his hands very much grease-free. Every time, Nolen's expression became a little more exhausted, a little more exasperated. But here, on the Arrow, where the stakes were real, he couldn’t muster such chutzpah. Accordingly, he only mouthed the words: "But what does an engineer do on the bridge?" He was about to find out. Niac: Lieutenant Commander Collins, Lieutenant Jg. Ayemet, you're going to be our eyes and ears while the away team is offship. I need you to squeeze everything you can out of our passive sensors. I want to keep track of the team and I don't want us to get snuck up on. Any questions? Collins/Ayemet: Response As Niac began his round of the bridge crew, Hobart stared at the panel in front of him. Thrusters only, shields offline, weapons powered down, life support and air circulation at a minimum. It was a blessing that the lights and displays themselves wouldn't create too much "noise," so they could be left un-dimmed. The air was still fresh enough, but Hobart knew as they settled in, things would begin to get stale. With any luck, the Captain's excursion would be brief. oO And “successful,” of course. Don’t forget “successful.” Oo Niac: Understood, give me as much warning as you can. Karrod nodded and turned his attention towards their helmsman, Cadet Jenna Perim. Nolen wondered which sadistic instructor assigned her to this ship for her cruise. Niac: Cadet Perim, confirm we're in position relative to the asteroid and the facility. Once we're set, I want you to start plotting warp trajectories out of the system and back to the Proteus ring. ::Karrod tried a reassuring smile:: You think you're up for that, Cadet? Hobart's black eyes danced around the map of the ship as he mused to himself about which sections were about to become very cold, and which very sweaty. The Bridge, he estimated with relief, would be closer to the former. As Nolen's father put it: you can always put more layers on. He did not envy Lieutenant J/G Dewitt, though, nor the smell that would undoubtedly await him on his return to Main Engineering. In the brief span of time between his arrival on the ship and his assignment to his current station, Ensign Hobart had only barely had a chance to drop off his belongings in his new quarters, drink a glass of water, and briefly meet a very busy man who seemed to have only just arrived out of the Academy a week or so before he did. The fact that Dewitt had already secured his half-pip was bewilderingly impressive, and Nolen wondered exactly where the Lieutenant got off setting such impossibly high standards for the rest of the crew. Perim: Response Karrod fought to keep a smirk off his face and turned his attention towards the last and newest member of their team, Ensign Nolen Hobart. The hairs on the back of Nolen's neck tingled as an image of looming anthropomorphized facial hair in a command uniform filled his mind. Niac: Ensign Hobart, welcome to the bridge. You'll be responsible for monitoring our power systems and making sure we're not leaking any detectable emissions. We don't want to trigger those facility defense batteries. That said, I want us ready to power up and get underway on a moment’s notice. Think you can handle all, Ensign? Hobart: ::raised voice:: Aye, sir, not a scrape nor squeak, Commander Bea— ah, Commander Niac. Sir. Hobart kept his back to the ship's Executive Officer, ostensibly to continue to monitor the ship’s systems. Had the ship's lights been dimmed, he imagined that his face, glowing as hot embers, would have drawn more attention no matter which way he stood. In this precise moment, he envied Lieutenant Dewitt a great deal. Karrod straightened up in the Chair and tapped at his commbadge. Niac: =/\= Niac to Shayne. Captain, we're all set up here. =/\= Shayne: =/\= Understood. Standby for our launch. =/\= Niac: =/\= Aye sir, good hunting. You're clear for departure. Arrow will be standing by waiting for you. Good luck, Captain. =/\= Shayne: =/\= Thank you, Commander. =/\= The comm closed and Karrod turned his attention back towards the bridge. The viewscreen showed the barren, pitted surface of broken stone stretched off into the darkness all around them. After a few minutes of relative silence, Karrod spoke aloud, half to himself and half to the bridge as a whole. Niac: Guess I should've brought a deck of cards. This caused Nolen to turn around, his face finally under control and un-blushed. Out the main viewscreen he saw the vast surface of their shelter against prying Sheliak sensors, a slash of barren rock against the dark void of space, and felt for a moment as if he was back home. An Engineer on the Bridge, he realized, if nothing else, got a real good look. Collins/Ayemet/Perim: Response With his eyes finally filled, Hobart turns back to his station, focused on making sure things stayed good and quiet. He tapped, rhythmically, cycling through the different powered down systems, arranging them for reactivation in the most efficient sequence possible. Somewhere from the dark recesses of his mind, antiquated cultural artifacts echoed. Hobart: ::whispering absentmindedly, with a Scottish lisp:: One… ping… only… Any: Response Tags/TBC — — — Ensign Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer U.S.S. Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3

((OOC: A great sim from Emma that just socked a lot of us in the feels.)) She had taken the opportunity afforded to her to rest for the briefest of moments, downloading a series of schematics and information from her personal servers, that could provide useful. She noticed the small onyx like box that had been mysteriously handed to her when on a shore leave , and she had struggled to open ever since. Scans had shown little information, but from them, and the data on El-Auria she had downloaded whilst at Odyssey Station, she had come to the conclusion that it was El-Aurian in composition, but quite why it had been given to her, and what it contained, were still a mystery to her. She sighed as she changed her uniform and combed her hair, trying to mask the signs of both emotional and physical exhaustion that sought to overwhelm her. At one point her and Gorva had planned to open it using her burgeoning psionic abilities, but that was when she had been terrified that there was a deep uncontrollable part of her waiting to be unleashed. Thanks to R’Ariel she had discovered that this was not the case, but merely the results of psci-dolescence, adolescence but for those with psionic gifts, and hope had resurfaced. She had looked forward to having someone who not only knew, but understood to talk to, but as so often, life had taken R’Ariel elsewhere, at least for the moment. She let out another breath, her right hand falling flat against the smooth surface of the box. Click. Her eyes opened. Whir. She looked down at the box as a small seam opened along the top of it, the whirring rising in volume as its’ sides began to turn and expand outwards. She picked the box up, it’s’ volume seemingly two or three times what it had appeared to be when closed. The sides were now extended outwards to the left and the right, giving the impression of books stacked previously on top of each other. She peered inside, tentatively at first, half expecting some creature or beam of light to come spilling out. It smelt…old, dusty, like a house that had laid unattended and cared for over decades. Inside were.. She half laughed. There was a small wooden wind instrument. About five inches in length, with small holes running down its’ side, and an obvious mouthpiece at one end. She picked it up, and gingerly blew into it. It was like the wind blowing through the trees, ethereal, lonely, a melancholy that spoke to some great sadness lost to time. She put it down, feeling like she had intruded on something precious and deeply private. She took the next object out, a small beaten soft toy in the shape of what humans might call a rabbit. Parts of it were faded, and it’s’ left ear fell loosely to one side, but it was soft, warm, and as Ayemet gel it carefully in her hands she felt comforted, like it brought back almost memory. She smiled stroking the small plush as she placed it down on the desk. Next was a book. The language was something she instinctively recognised; El-Aurian. The symbols filled page after page, hand drawn illustrations interrupting the paragraphs every so often. It looked like some kind of notebook. History? Biographical? A diary? She wasn’t sure, but it was certainly something that needed, no insisted, on further careful study. The final item was a clear bag with several smaller pockets within it. In each pocket was a myriad different seeds and pulses, all carefully placed so as not to be contaminated by either the other seeds nor anything outside the bag. She looked at the colors and shapes. There must have been at least a dozen different seeds. Seeds of plants that once grew in El-Aurian soil. Tears formed in her eyes, her hands moving gently over the contents of the box, a smile on her lips . Home. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of her communicator calling for her return. She places each of the items back into the box, which closes once more, and turned to leave her quarters, taking a brief moment to look once more at it as the doors closed and she took the unusual step of locking it . She turned and ran straight into someone, colliding with them, and falling ti the floor. Any Response: Jacin: Yes. Totally my fault. I’m so sorry. Any Response: Jacin: No it:beat: it’s something for another time. Any Response: Jacin: nodding: On my way. With that she turned and hurried towards the turbolift. TAG/ TBC/END? Lieutenant Jg Jacin Ayemet Science Officer USS Arrow A239810JA2

((Circular enclosed courtyard with benches and a small water fountain at the center – Shi’Kahr District)) Sera had found herself wandering after the New Year’s party on the SS Belladonna had wound to a close. She wasn’t quite certain how exactly she found this small courtyard in the Shi’Kahr district, which was quite a ways from her quarters. However, the feeling of it reminded her of home, and she took a seat at one of the benches spaced equidistantly apart surrounding the bubbling fountain in a perfect circle. She stared at nothing really, though her eyes were generally fixed on the flowing water. The chocolate had not been one of her more logical…or perhaps intelligent decisions, as the euphoric effects were wearing off and she was left with a sense of profound…emptiness. Sherlock had spent half the party explaining Terran traditions regarding this particular celebration, and Sera soaked it in – finding some of the customs most interesting, if inexplicable. However, part of learning was comparing past experiences or knowledge to find a meaningful way to categorize the new information, and pulling up knowledge of her life on Vulcan, in this current state…well it made her feel things. Isolation…loneliness…longing…grief. They were old friends, in a way, following her since leaving home and entering a new life as an academy cadet…and they were still here. Oh, she had become quite proficient at subsuming them, locking them away in a box that was conveniently shoved into a mental closet marked, “OFF LIMITS – DO NOT OPEN.” Nonetheless, here they were, in the forefront of her mind, filling her soul with something that caused discomfort behind her breastbone, a dull pain that made each breath a miserable chore. A rustling of clothing jolted her from her musings, and Sera reached up and wiped at her face, unsure of why it was wet. Nalaat: ::In a crisply accented Vulcan that spoke of growing up in Gol:: It is quite late to sit in such contemplation... Sera’s head whipped to the voice, and she caught herself with her hand on the bench seat as the motion held a little too much momentum. She looked up to see an adult Vulcan male, with slight salting of his hair around his brow line, wearing robes of an indeterminate color…it was quite late, wasn’t it? Sera: It…the courtyard is quite placid at this hour. Nalaat motioned with his hand, asking permission to sit, and Sera nodded once, giving assent, and he settled a respectful distance from her on the stone slab. Nalaat: I have never seen you here before, miss… Sera: ::sighing in a very un-Vulcan-like manner:: S’Ers-a Nalaat: Ah…S’Ers-a. Your accent, it is quite unique. I have never heard one like it. Sera looked down to her hands which were gripped tightly together in her lap. Her anxiety speaking with one of her own was visible in the whitening of her knuckles, and she forced them to relax. Sera: I was born in Jia'anKahr. She turned her gaze from her hands to the profile of the stranger sitting next to her and waited. Nalaat: That is far south. Very remote if I recall my geography correctly. Sera blew air out of her nose at his self-deprecating statement. Of course, he would recall it correctly – every Vulcan had been taught about the Lyr’Taya region…and what peoples hailed from it. Sera: A different world, one might say… ::wincing, knowing that the use of idioms would not serve her here:: The man tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating what she said. Or perhaps he was thinking of a scathing remark to be delivered in a quintessential Vulcan manner that would cut her deeply, but only if she admitted she had such feelings, which tonight at least, she didn’t have the control to deny herself that. Sera: For the sake of efficiency, I am m’Lyr’Zor. oO There. That should end whatever this is… Oo The man turned to look at her fully and raised a brow. Nalaat: Stating that your home is in Lyr’Taya all but guaranteed that. ::regarding her in a manner that indicated that he too was thinking of how to be efficient:: Do you believe I am…scandalized, knowing this? Sera gaped at him, and as her face felt utterly bizarre, perhaps she actually was physically expressing her incredulity. Sera: Every Vulcan I have ever told has never…not been. Nalaat nodded considering. Nalaat: As you are here, on a Federation installation, in a simulated Vulcan portico, very far from Jia'anKahr, I will postulate you have not chosen a profession that feeds into the rumors and innuendos regarding your clan’s unsavory dealings. Sera ducked her head in an attempt to hide the single laugh at his rather 'diplomatic' observation. Sera: That is quite astute of you...? She studied him, waiting for the inevitable rebuffment that she had experienced outside of her clan's landholdings. Nalaat: Very well, S’Ers-a M’Lyr’Zor. I am Nalaat M’Hgrtcha. Are you new to the district? Sera breathed out slowly, regaining some semblance of control before answering him. Sera: No. My quarters are…some distance from here. Nalaat: Starfleet then. It is hard to determine such things when one is not wearing their uniform. She ducked her head in response to his humor. He was not incorrect…it was hard to tell when one was wearing a netting dress that was decidedly un-Vulcan. Nalaat: And your mate? Is he here with you? Nalaat: And your mate? Is he here with you? Sera started at his question, her mind immediately going back to the memories of…him. It was suddenly as if she were drowning all over again. The discomfort within her chest exploded into burning pressure, and she felt as if she couldn't get air into her lungs. Her hands grasped the edge of the stone bench the edge of the rough stone bit into her palm, pulling her out of the panicked state she had started to fall into. Nalaat saw the change come over her and realized he had made a grievous error. This young woman appeared to be undone, her shoulders and arms trembling as her breath echoed in a harsh whisper. His initial response was to turn away, to allow her a moment to regain her composure in an obvious lapse of emotional control…but…from what she had just shared with him, he considered doing so would show an unforgiveable indifference to her suffering. Reaching out he placed his hands atop her trembling one and sent calmness through the link that opened between them. He was most careful to not take anything from her, and this was an easy thing given the years of training he had in the mind arts as a Priest of Amonak. He remained by her side, stoically composed as he waited patiently for the woman to regain herself. She felt the calmness being projected to her and she focused desperately on that, forcing her breaths to slow and the frantic thrumming of her heart to ease. She dropped her head and shut her eyes, ashamed of her actions before a stranger, and a Vulcan no less. Nalaat: There is no shame, S’Ers-a-kam. <<Kam denotes affection/caring>> My question was obviously indelicate. I ask your forgiveness. Sera sat, unmoving for a moment, but she was not ignoring Nalaat…she was simply trying to find the courage to face him. Sera: There is nothing to forgive, Nalaat. It is I who am… ::mouth moving but no further words coming out:: Nalaat: I grieve with thee. Sera body shuddered, as if shaking off a deep chill, and her composure had finally returned to its proper place. She delicately pulled her hand out from under his, and as soon as the movement was perceived Nalaat courteously withdrew. Sera: There is nothing to grieve. It was kal-if-fee. Nalaat reared back slightly, her statement so unexpected that he was unable to contain his surprise behind his neutral façade. oO So young! Oo Nalaat: ::switching to formal Vulcan:: Was the one thy were bonded to at Koon-ut-la such an ill-fitting mate for thee? Sera’s expression shifted to that of incredulity, but she did not turn to look at this stranger. It was a very personal question, and she should find this entire exchange unacceptable…but she had never told anyone…and no one had ever asked…and now here she sat on a stone bench, next to…::studying the sigils on his robes::…a Priest of Amonak? Sera: ::hesitant:: My clan…adheres to older ways. I informed of my family’s choice with only a short time to prepare. Nalaat could only shake his head in disbelief. His estimation of Sera increased greatly. Nalaat: And you managed to procure a champion for thee in such short time? Sera exhaled through her nose at his statement. A champion…if only. Sera: I was my own champion. I fought for my life and bought my freedom by his death. It was a pyrrhic victory. Nalaat: ::raising a brow:: In what way? Thy call it a pyrrhic victory – costly, yes, but did thee believe the loss incurred was not worth any gain? Sera finally risked looking at him and raised a brow weakly in question. Sera: ::softly:: I could not…go through with it, so he had to die?…and for what…to find myself here, having made irrational choices, intoxicated to the point of inability to control my emotions…telling a stranger my deepest shame…::shoulders slumping:: …T'nash-veh kashek nam-tor sa'awek - tra' nam-tor rim ik thresh ish-veh. Nalaat studied her defeated form – seeing her lapse in control as a physical symptom of psychological pain. Isolation was detrimental environment for a Vulcan. To be physically alone was one thing – but to be telepathically alone? Vulcans required bonds to maintain stability. Bonds with family, bonds with associates – or friends, bonds with mates…It was never spoken about because it simply…was. They were touch telepaths, yes…but close contact with other Vulcans formed subtle links – that were often strengthened through melds that occurred – when the situation appropriate. If she was here, unbonded – with no meaningful connections with anyone else…why, it was amazing she had maintained stability as long as she had. Nalaat: ::in a fatherly tone:: when have you last shared thoughts, S’Ers’a-kam? Sera: ::defensive:: I…melded with a half-human/half-orion woman the other day. What was this becoming…a confessional? Sera finally braved looking at his face, and his concern was expressed all over it. He was a Priest of Amonak after all…he was trained to listen and offer guidance. Normal Vulcans did this…they confided…gave trust…asked for and received assistance. It was an alien concept. Her family was calculating…cold. It was an unheard-of thing to confess such as she was to another. However, she was drunk and just couldn’t stop herself. Nalaat: For the purpose of closeness…of connection? Sera: ::gesturing with her head in a negative motion:: No. It was to educate, exchange information. Nalaat: And that inability to meld in a proper manner…? Sera:: It…pained me. Nalaat tilted his head to the side in compassion. Nalaat: S’Ers-a m’Lyr’Zor Tan-tor nash-veh nahp. <<give me your thoughts.>> ::raising his hand up and out to half the distance between them. Sera’s eyes widened and she sat up straight and then leaned her head back slightly to give him correct access to the side of her face. His warm fingertips touched her face, expertly sliding precisely over the cranial nerve pathways. Sera shivered all over uncontrollably once, and then became perfectly still. Nalaat: T’nash-veh kashek tor ish-veh kashek…T'nash-veh nahp tor nahp <<My mind to your mind…my thoughts to your thoughts>> She was always filled with astonishment to feel the breath of another’s lungs, to see herself through another’s eye, to sense that there was no beginning or no end…Sera reached back out to him, allowing him the same transcendent gift that full meld bestowed. Nalaat: …Etwel nahp nam-tor veh <<Our thoughts are one.>> Yes. This was what was missing in the meld with Shevon. Beatific. <<Small Time-skip>> Two shadowed figures remained silent and still on the stone bench for a long time. The simulated darkness began to wane, and a subtle red began to build in the ‘dark sky’ of the dome as the day cycle was initiating. Nalatt removed his hand from her face and opened his eyes. Sera, meanwhile, considered never opening her eyes as that would mean she would not have to look at the face of the one who now knew her better than anyone else she had ever known. She had never given into cowardice, and she was not about to now, so Sera opened her eyes. Nalaat: Was that acceptable, S’Ers-a-kam? Sera: ::Softly:: Yes. There was more to be said, but Sera was not ready yet. It felt as if a festering wound had been lanced open, and now the infection would have to drain out before it could be cleansed and sown shut. Nalaat nodded with a sage expression on his face. Nalaat: You may return any evening you are not on duty. I will be here. We may continue, if so desired. Sera looked about the flamelit courtyard and realized she was in a portico to the grand entrance of a temple. He was a priest of the temple…ah. Sera stood gracefully and looked down to the Priest of Amonak. She tilted her head to the side in a gesture of acknowledgement of what told her. Sera, however, did not agree to his offer. She didn’t want to promise anything – they were prisons. Nalaat saw her ‘answer’ and nodded once, standing as well. She would return when she was ready to. Nalaat: ::raising his hand in the ta’al:: Peace and long life, S’Ers-a m’Lyr’Zor. Sera: ::reciprocating in kind for the first time since leaving Vulcan to join the academy:: Live long and prosper, Nalaat M’Hgrtcha…and…I thank thee. Nalaat: Unnecessary. I come to serve. [End Scene] ***************** Lieutenant JG Sera Engineering Officer SB 118 Ops J239812S14

This is a continuation of a sim by @Toryn Raga that I previously posted here, and it just gets better and better. ========= (( Shattered Halls of Cata Maran )) The darkness was utterly oppressive around them as Wyla and her small troupe of twibbles progressed away from the isolated room they’d found her in. It felt like hours, but as she thought about it, there was little here that made it easy to tell the passage of time. And she’d been distracted by the soft fur of the lion beneath her while the other twibbles flanked them. Thankfully the hallways were wide enough for all of them to walk side by side. Swibble and Ribble had spent much of the journey so far nudging each other and taking turns teasing or one upping one another while the cute bird on Ribble’s back just stared at them like a guardian that had long since tired of their foolishness. They were to her left. Pwibble was just ahead of Twibble and her. While Libble and Kwibble flanked her on the right. She noted that all of them seemed to be uneasy, despite their lighthearted natures, particularly when they passed through chambers large enough for the light emanating from her medallion to not completely illuminate the space. And she couldn’t blame them, in those chambers she could see the defined borders where the shadows pressed against the light. Like greedy hands trying to push through a wall or paper mache. The corridor they were currently in opened up to another of those large chambers and she gripped the fur of Twibble’s mane a bit tighter. Whispers echoed throughout this chamber and made her shiver slightly. Separating the ventral and dorsal roots. Heart rate and respiration remain within acceptable parameters. She felt an ache in her back then and a soft whimper escaped the paralyzed Antosian clinging to the lion’s back. The whimper drew the attention of the others who moved closer and place a hand on her legs or arms and gave her reassuring looks. Libble: It’s alright Wyla. This is part of the journey! And we’ll do everything we can to protect you. ::She said reassuringly:: She smiled and nodded at Libble and then they pushed forward. The chamber made her uneasy, aside from the whispers an occasional spark burst from a wall or ceiling beyond the bubble of light she made, that let her see the surfaces. A mix of panels, bulkheads and loose optical cable but all stone. Separation complete. ::beat:: Doctor Solok, go ahead and sever the brainstem. Wyla gasped from the tug she felt to her back but when she looked behind or reached behind to rub her back she couldn’t feel anything different. A faint glow ahead looked to come from another corridor up a few meters ahead. And she felt a little better. Brainstem is severed. Placing the Cerebral Cortex on life support now. Primary brain dysfunction in four hours. Vitals holding within normal parameters. Avae: H..how long until we reach the artifact? Pibble: Well, uh, no one knows! We know where it is, we just don’t know when we’ll find it. That didn’t make her feel any better. Making the incision. The whispers returned but this time there was a lingering echo that was unlike the others. These were malevolent. The shadows pressed more aggressively against the light she emanated and a low growl rumbled from Twibble. The troupe all stopped and she realized why. The light from the next corridor wasn’t visible anymore. The twibbles all spread out from around them, each either drawing their weapons or taking up defensive postures. Wyla whimpered. Avae: What’s wrong? Twibble: The daarkness doesn’t want us to progress. Hold tight, Wyla. All around them the shadows pushed, hammered, pierced the light until several passed through the border. Burning and trailing smoke as if in pain from the light of her medallion, but they charged at her. Shrieking at her. Wyla gasped as one of the shadows got within a few feet of her before a lion’s claw slashed it asunder. Avae: My face….wh…why did it have my face? She asked, shaken from the sight of a barely humanoid form, with her visage but twisted and terrifying. Twibble: They’re trying to snuff your light Wylaa, don’t let theem get to you. Ribble: Back, ye foul monsters! Ribble cried out punching and kicking shadows that passed within reach of him while Sylara bit or clawed at shadows that attempted to descend on them from above. What started as a handful of shadows soon swelled to dozens and the Antosian gripped the mane she held onto and tried to make herself as small as possible while the melee went on around her. Swibble cleaved several shadows with her blade like a whirling dervish. Libble had her medkit out using it to block or smack the passing shadows, between moments of calling on its powers to mend the wounds her fellow twibbles sustained. A shadow clipped Ribble, which sent clouds of stuffing onto the ground. But soon after the wound mended from a glowing light from Libble’s medkit. Kwibble held an ancient looking sword that she had told Wyla was called a Chon Blade. Apparently it had, at one time, been able to open magical portals to allow instant travel across great distances, but the magic had long faded and only worked in specific shrines. It sliced through shades easily enough. Pwibble fought back against the shades both with the tiny runabout that flew around as his command, firing little beams of light, small orbs of orange that burst in minute puffs of magical power and even rammed shades on occasion. And by fighting similarly to Ribble, punching and kicking with skill or with the handheld anchor that they wielded. Wyla felt helpless as her brave twibble guardians fought all around her and held tightly onto the lion beneath her that slashed and bit and roared. Then she felt the abrupt cold chill on her body. She gasped from the sensation and shivered. Her head snapped to her side and she stared into the face of a shade. Her face. It shrieked and she felt life slowly drain out of her body. The light of her medallion flickered all around them. Blood pressure seems to be falling, Doctors. Slowly, steadily – but falling. The lion roared and a hoot sounded above her before Sylara swooped down and clawed the shade off her. Another pair managed to grab her, making her cry out in a whimper of pain and sorrow before both were destroyed or knocked away from her. Administer the Leporazine. Fifteen ccs. Twibble hissed at the shades like a hypospray and several began to fall. The battle raged for minutes? Hours? Eventually, no more shades breached the light bubble, which was a little smaller than before. Each twibble seemed out of breath, even Libble, who took a moment to go around to each and heal them before healing herself. After Wyla was mended of course. Avae: I..I’m alright, Libble. Thank you. Libble: Of course! You’ll get through this, just hang on a bit longer okay!? She could only nod and lay against the lion’s mane as the troupe headed into the next corridor after a brief rest. A final whisper, unheard by Wyla or the others, sounded from the chamber behind them as they left. oO Please stay with me. Oo To be continued…. ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga